


Finding Draco

by SamwiseLives



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 61,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9988013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamwiseLives/pseuds/SamwiseLives
Summary: After the War, Draco Malfoy is abandoned in the Forbidden Forest.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing.
> 
> This is a story that has been in my head for a while. I apologise in advance if it's a bit rubbish.

The lax body was carried into the Forest, there was nothing that could be done for him, nothing that would be done. He was as good as dead. 

The large man who carried the pale boy had no remorse.  
He was the only one left now, and felt it was his duty to be rid of the final, horrific acts of the Death Eaters. Nothing could be traced back to him, of that he was sure. A decaying body of a student could not be found if it was dumped and left for the animals.

There was no sympathy, no feeling, as the boy was dropped unceremoniously, naked, shivering, dying, onto the cold hardened floor of the Forest. The figure in black stalked away without a backwards glance.

And so it was that Draco Malfoy lay dying on the fringes of the Forbidden Forest, three days into the new term at Hogwarts.

 

Hagrid was about to lock up. It was late, and the night was cloudy and cold. Fang's last walk for the night would not be a long one. Just a quick wander through the nearest trees and he would turn in. Put the kettle on and open his tin of ever present rock cakes.

 

Fang howled. A deep, mournful wail that rent the night air. It sent a shudder through the normally unflappable Gamekeeper. There was nothing to be scared of in the Forest. Not anymore. Hagrid knew this place like the back of his hand, it held no fear for him. But... That wail.

'Fang?' Hagrid ventured deeper into the trees, following his Boarhound's low cry. 'What you up to, boy?' His voice unsteady. Fang was not one for making a fuss, something had rattled him.

In the distance he could see the enormous dog sitting beside a white mound, his head thrown back in anguish, crying into the night air. The moonlight that permeated the thick trees did little to disclose what the indistinct shape could possibly be. Far too small to be an injured Unicorn or Centaur, Hagrid got closer.

 

Hagrid had no love for the son of Lucius Malfoy, but even so, his heart twisted at the sight that befell him once he had reached Fang and the lump that had upset him so. 

The boy was a mess. The once proud, haughty student debased in such a vile manner. Beaten, violated, abandoned and left to die alone in the Forbidden Forest.

The child, for they were all still children in Hagrid's eyes, had tried to curl up, unconsciously seeking warmth despite knowing that none would be found. Using the dull lamp that hung from his fingers, Hagrid dropped to his knees to inspect the boy, his breath catching in his throat, tears stinging in his eyes at the body that was Draco Malfoy.

Deep lash marks, inflicted with a vicious whip and a heavy hand scoured his back, shoulders and buttocks. Infected and looking desperately sore, Hagrid knew that when the time came to pick him up, he would undoubtedly cause unbearable agony. His breathing was laboured, shallow, thin chest heaving with the effort. His once pale face was swollen and littered with purpling bruises, stretching across his throat. Shaped like fingers where a set of hands, more than one set, had gripped him hard, a hold that would have choked him unconscious.  
Old cuts covered his chest and sunken stomach, indistinct words carved crudely into the soft skin. Black bruises and welts snaked up his thighs, more fingermarks on his hips, digging deeply into the vulnerable flesh, dried blood crusting between his legs. 

It was only too clear what kind of torment Draco had suffered.

 

It was late, and Harry Potter couldn't sleep. 

There was nothing unusual about that. Three days in and he was still getting used to being back at the place that held so many memories. Good and bad. His love of Hogwarts and the people it contained ensured his return, but several days ago he was still debating whether it was the right thing to do. Everything had changed, everyone had changed. A summer spent grieving at The Burrow had cemented his place at the Weasley's side. He was an honorary son and brother, a friend to the family. His family. 

The return visits to Grimmauld Place had been sporadic, just mainly spent doing the cheerless place up a little. He was determined that he would call it home after Hogwarts. Even Ron had shown an interest in moving in with him. Neither boy had an urge to be alone.

He found that the familiarity of returning to Hogwarts was a unexpected comfort. People had died here, friends and classmates. Harry thought it might be too difficult to go back, to see where his friends had fallen and not gotten back up. To taste the fear of death again, to roam the halls that had seen too much blood. But it wasn't like that.

Hogwarts was the only home he had previously known, and being back here had instantly felt right.

The teachers had done a fantastic job in getting the castle back to is former glory. But there was sympathy here also. Plaques adorned the walls, bearing the names of the dead, monuments that stood proudly within the castle grounds. It was not overwhelming, but it was necessary to all the ones who had fought, who would always remember the ultimate sacrifice. New students would gather around the shrines, chattering quietly. And the older students and teachers? They would touch the memorials reverently, brushing fingers over the carved names of friends and family before walking quietly away.

 

Sleep was not going to visit Harry tonight. He gave up on closing his eyes to only find them open and staring at the canopy above him, his mind active and refusing to rest. The gentle snoring coming from the beds around the room irritated him, making him wish someone else was awake so he wouldn't feel quite so alone. He briefly contemplated waking Ron, before thinking better of it. Rest had not come easily to the red headed boy of late. It would be cruel to deny him the sweet sleep of oblivion.

But he couldn't stay here. Throwing back the covers of his bed and opening the curtains, he set his feet onto the chilly stone floor, reaching around for his slippers and dressing gown. He would go for a walk.

Harry eyed up his Invisible Cloak, but figured the added danger of getting caught out of bed in the night might be more fun. Slipping out of the portrait hole, quiet as a ghost, Harry set off for a nocturnal stroll.

 

He was used to being silent, his slippered feet made no noise as he wandered the halls, not seeing a single soul. Even the school spirits were absent. The castle was his alone. 

He wandered for hours, climbing up stairs and walking into unlocked classrooms, remembering the places of fun, the places of death. He was done with crying. A summer spent in mourning had dried up what tears he had left. There was only so much sobbing a person could do before the tears stopped, before the heart started to slowly mend.

Harry was caught up in reverie and only happened to see a light blazing in the window of Hagrid's hut when he passed one of the many windows on his journey. Smiling deeply, he finally had a place to head for. Hagrid was always up for a chat and a cup of tea, whatever the hour.

 

Hagrid laid the dying boy on his bed, tears and fury clouding his vision. Who would do such a thing to someone? Who would want to hurt a living person in such a way? Hagrid had seen some horrors in his time, things that he didn't think upon, but this... This was something else.

He gently wrapped Draco up in layers of fur. There was a danger that it would stick to his weeping wounds, but that hardly seemed to matter under the circumstances. It was likely that he would not see the morning, so the least the gentle giant could do was to make him warm, and hopefully a little comfortable.

He tossed wood onto the fire, banking it up higher, closed the windows and instructed his faithful boarhound to guard the boy while he went to fetch help.

 

The door was thrown open, Hagrid was then about to step out into the night once more.  
There was a figure walking towards him with purpose. For a split second he thought it might be whoever had left Draco, coming back to finish the job that had begun months ago. But no. It was Harry.

 

'Thank goodness.' Hagrid exclaimed, leaning heavily on the wonky door frame.

'It's good to see you too!' Harry laughed. 'I saw your light on and I thought...' Harry was unable to finish his sentence before being forcibly pulled into the warm hut.

'I...I found him.' Hagrid stuttered, shutting the door tightly behind them. 'In the Forest.' He pointed a meaty finger at his bed. 'Someone left him there. Not a stitch on him.' Hagrid swallowed thickly. 'I...I tried to warm him up, Harry. I...I don't want to leave him on his own, but I have to get him help.' Hagrid broke down, great sobs rattling from his throat. 'He's dyin', Harry.'

'Hagrid..?' Harry shook, moving closer to the bed, terrified at what he would find. 'Who...Who did you find?'

'It's Malfoy.' Hagrid told him, his voice cracking. 'Draco Malfoy.'

'He's been gone months.' Harry turned to look up at his friend, shocked. 'He went with Voldemort.'

'Looks more like he was taken, Harry.' Hagrid whispered. 'Someone left him to die.'

'Go and get help. I'll...I'll stay with him.'

With a speed that belied his size, Hagrid wrenched the door open and took off to the castle at a sprint, Fang close to his heels.

 

Draco Malfoy was many things. He was a nuisance, a tease, he had a vicious, cutting tongue. He was clever, scathing, amusing and fiercely loyal with his friends. He was independent, spoilt, angry. He was hurt, damaged, broken. Dying.

Harry sat on the edge of the bed, finally getting a look at the pale boy. Shocked at what he saw.

Hagrid was right, Malfoy was close to death. Far too close. His grey eyes flickered and twitched under almost scarlet eyelids. Trapped in his own personal Hell. Harry felt helpless, there was no way to offer comfort to the broken boy, no place to touch him where it wouldn't cause him untold pain. 

His eyes darkened with black bruises. His once perfect lips cracked and bleeding. His jaw broken, twisting at an unnatural angle, sparse blond stubble did nothing to hide the pain it must be causing. His hair was matted with filth, and where it was missing there were bloody patches, his hair ripped out at the scalp. 

Yes, Malfoy was many, many things. But not this. No one deserved to be this.


	2. Chapter 2

It was uncomfortably warm in the hut, but the boy under the furs still shivered. 

Gripped by pain and fear, his body would not be still, shaking, trembling. He knew hurt now. Understood real agony that had been beyond his comprehension before. Not anymore. This was what it meant to die.

Blind terror, twising pain that clenched and rushed over him in waves. He had wished for Death to visit, and it had knocked on the door, begging to be let in. But there was always someone who would laugh, someone who would turn it away with a cruel flick of a wand, forcing him to live just a moment longer, just a day, a week, a month.

 

He shared a dark cell with two bodies for company, and visitors that would make him scream, bleed and beg. They had hands that would never cease, wands that would not heal, words that filled him with desperation.  
There was nothing left of him that could be called human. Made to crawl like a beast, made to drink from the floor. Made to pleed for the torment to end.

It continued for so long that he was unable to count the days. Night and day had no meaning here. He had fallen from the world and all he knew was pain and suffering.

 

 

And suddenly there was nothing. 

The door had closed and no one came back. He had been left to die. There were no more hands, no more visits. The rotting corpses continued to decay, but they no longer danced. He was alone. 

Completly alone.

Days passed with no light, no thought apart from the realisation that thirst would be his end. He had thought that the torture would take him to his maker, but no. The lonely act of dehydration would succeed when all other methods had failed. He accepted it with a weary countenance. It was better to be alone, to slip away and know no more.

 

 

A creak of a door, heavy iron scraping against the stone floor. It was a sound he was only too familiar with. It signaled more pain, more hurt, more everything. He couldn't see, could only feel as something different happened this time, a fresh torment as he was roughly picked up by cold hands, carried into the freezing night. His back screamed in silent agony, deep cuts rubbing against the figure that held him in a devils clutch. He was dying, why wasn't he allowed to let go? Why this constant stream of Hell?

He was carried for hours by a man who didn't speak. He knew from the feel of him that he was one of those who had liked to hurt him. This man liked it nasty, dirty and violent. He couldn't even struggle, his body too weak to fight. All he could do was wait to see what fresh horror this man had conjured up for him.

He was dropped from the arms. Falling hard onto the chilled earth. The man stood over him, looking down at what he had become. Draco expected more pain, he tried to curl up, anticipating it, but nothing. The man in black just walked away.

There was no warmth to be found here, but it was an ending. The pain would stop, the evil would cease and he would slip away into eternal darkness. He could taste it's sweetness, feel it's welcome. 

 

But no, once again in the arms of a body, held despite the agony, the screaming inside his head. Only this time it felt different. It wasn't cruel, it didn't hurt quite so much. It was a different pair of hands, a different smell. There was a voice this time too. A kind, gruff voice, one full of gentleness. One that promised him warmth, help, salvation. 

He was whispered to, carried carefully through the thick trees. A voice full of sorrow told him that it was all going to be okay, that he was going to help him.

 

Strong arms laid him down, wrapped him up in layers of warmth. Draco allowed himself to sink into the dream, because what else could it truly be? There was no help for someone like him, someone who didn't deserve this care, this protection. He was nothing. The dream swept over him, dragging him down into its beautiful embrace.

 

He tried to open his eyes, aware of a light but unable to summon the strength required to part his heavy eyelids. This was not like any dream he'd had in the Cell. Those were cruel, promising him the world, but only delivering the darkness, the cold, the vicious punishments.

In Draco's dream the sound of a door opening brought in the night. And voices. The same rough one from before, but there was another one, a softer one. A voice that he knew well. The name of the owner escaped him. He tried to grasp hold of it, but it slipped through his memory like liquid, impossible to hold on to. 

The soft voices penetrated his mind, he even thought he heard his name.

That sound of the door again. Someone was leaving. But he wasn't left alone, not this time. He felt a dip where he lay, there was someone sitting beside him. Draco felt no fear. This person was kind, gentle. Green eyes flashed inexplicably through his head.

'Draco? Draco, can you hear me?' There was that voice again, the one he knew so very well. It was hope, friendship. Home.

He turned his head to the sound, wishing he could hold onto it forever.

'Do you want water?' The kind voice asked, so close. 

Water. The thought had his parched tongue escape from his mouth, trying to lick some moisture into his painfully dry lips. How long had it been since he last tasted water? Surely the dream would end soon, they had never let him sleep this long before.

Soon the hands would be back to hurt him, soon the wands would be drawn and he would be reduced to a screaming, sobbing mess.

'Draco, it's me, it's Harry.'

'H...H...Harry..?' His ravaged throat scratched. Who was Harry? 'Don't...don't wake... Don't make me wake.' A cough shook through his body, leaving him breathless.

'Try not to talk.' The voice said, a gentle hand touching his hair. 'Hagrid has gone for help.'

'Dreaming.' Draco whispered. 'Please... No. Don't... Don't w...wake me.' It hurt to talk, it hurt so much. But he had to get the words out, the voice had to know.

'Ssh, you're not dreaming. You are safe now.'

'Don't wanna...wake. Scared.'

'You are safe.' The voice repeated, the hand stroked. 'There isn't anyone going to hurt you anymore. I'm going to look after you.'

The kind voice painted his sore lips with water. Cool and soothing. He drew in what little he could, his tongue cracked and swollen. But it was wonderful. The water continued, dripping slowly onto his lips.

'Is that helping?' 

'Y...Yes.' He licked up the drops again.  
This was not like a dream. This felt tangible. The water in his mouth, the kind hand on his hair, the soft voice that was full of worry. It all felt so very real.


	3. Chapter 3

They were torturing him. 

His warm, protective furs were gone. Naked and cold, he lay upon the bed. 

They had come for him, of course they had. The beautiful dream with the emerald eyes had been snatched away, leaving only white hot pain that blazed through his body, setting alight to his bones, searing his flesh. He tried to talk, to beg, to pleed, but the only sound that forced it's way from his throat was a weak, pathetic cry, his eyes leaking the precious water the kind voice had given him.

 

'You are killing him!' Harry couldn't stand it a moment longer. The sight of the painfully writhing boy was too terrible to witness.

Two crackling wands were suddenly silent.

'I can assure you, Mr. Potter, we are doing no such thing.' Professor McGonagall's voice was stern, even as her hands shook. 'We are doing all we can for Draco. I warned you that it would not be easy on him.'

'He's dying!' Harry blinked, 'I'd say that isn't at all easy!'

'You should return to the castle.' Madam Pomfrey spoke. She feared for Harry. The boy may have saved the wizarding world, but he was still only that, a boy. One who had already experienced too much pain and heartache for someone so young. 'Hagrid will take you.' She beckoned the giant over from where he stood at the stove, pretending to brew tea. 

'Come along, Harry. We'll see if the House Elves can spare us some ice cream.' Hagrid was pleased by the task given him. His sensitive soul could not take the sight, or the sound of the boy on his bed.

His home felt different now. It was no longer the sanctuary he had always known. It was now a place where a young man suffered untold agony, brought on by an evil that they all believed had been eradicated.   
He was more than happy to leave the two witches to their grim task. 

'Don't touch me.' Harry warned, ducking away from his oldest friend when Hagrid went to put his huge arm around his shoulders. He could feel the rage of his magic coursing through his body, threatening to erupt at any provocation. 'I'm not leaving.'

'Then I will urge you to be quiet.' The headmistress ordered brusquely, feeling for herself the magic radiating dangerously off Potter. The boy was a live wire, his hands clenched into tight fists. 'What we are doing for Draco is going to help him. It may not look like that is the case, but it is all we can do.' She lamented softly, accepting the role of bad guy. 'Harry, his body cannot take the spells, not without causing him pain and immense distress.'

'Can't...can't you make him sleep? So he won't feel it.' Harry whispered, unable to drag his eyes from the naked, emaciated form.

'It is my fear that should we send Draco to sleep, he will be unable to wake.' Madam Pomfrey spoke gently. 'We are being as kind as we can.' She sighed in frustrated resignation. 'There is little we can do to help with his pain. I'm afraid that Draco will have to endure it.'

'Won't he die?' Harry choked out. He desperately wanted to go to the boy, but was powerless to help.

'It is my fervent wish that he will not.' Professor McGonagall grimaced, feeling sick to her stomach. 'But in order for that to happen, we must continue. Do you understand, Harry?' At his barely imperceptible nod, she once again turned her attention to the beaten body of Draco.

 

She had never seen such injuries on one person before. Let alone on one so young. It went without saying that the Death Eaters were notoriously cruel and savage in meting out their punishments. But to do so on a child. On one of her students.

The only thing he had done wrong was not committing murder. In any other circle that would have been applauded, but not within the company the boy was forced to keep. He had gone blindly into the darkness, it was all he knew. Draco Malfoy's fate was mapped out for him on the day he was conceived.

Her fellow teacher had seen it, had tried to help. But Professor Snape had not known what would ultimately happen to his young charge. He had spoken about Draco's plight to her. Not in detail, but neverthless he had confided some of his concerns. She knew that Severus would never have forseen this, no one could have predicted this level of punishment for failing to kill Dumbledore.

The wand in her hand twitched, knowing that her work wasn't done.

 

A pitiful whimper scratched it's way out of Draco's throat. So full of misery and pain that Madam Pomfrey dropped her wand, allowing it to clatter to the floor as if it were a branding iron.

'That's enough now, Minerva.'

'Poppy?'

'The poor boy cannot take anymore. We have done all we can for now.' The nurse knew that Draco was in need of much more healing, but that would prove Harry right, they would be killing him.   
Time and potions would have to take care of the rest.

But the immediate danger was over. Bones had been knitted together, internal damage repaired, flesh split under a whip had been drawn tightly closed, despite infection taking root. His jaw had been cracked back into place and some of the more serious bruising around his throat was abating.   
His more intimate injuries would have to heal without their aid. He could not take any more trauma.

'It's over?' Harry breathed. Not once had he taken his eyes off Draco. 'Can...can I touch him?'

'He is in a great deal of pain, Harry.' Madam Pomfrey answered. 'It might be for the best if we let him be.'

'H...he thinks...thinks you are them.' Harry whispered, not hearing Hagrid sob, not hearing McGonagall's sharply drawn breath. 'He though he was dreaming, before. He thought he was still there.' Harry stepped closer to the bed. 'He is still thinking that.'

Four pairs of eyes looked upon Draco.

 

'No...' Draco murmured. 'Can't...I'll do anything.' His head thrashed against the pillows. 'I...I'm s...s...sorry. Please.' His eyes screwed shut in pain, Draco was trapped in his waking nightmare. 

They were all around him. Laughing, taunting, wands drawn. Cruciatus tearing though his weak body. They held him in it's curse, all the while watching, waiting for him to break. Waiting for him to cry out and beg for whatever they demanded.  
The circle drawing ever closer, the putrid smell coming from the bodies in the corner, the loneliness, the desperation, the cold hard truth of his own existence. He was nothing. A vessel to hurt, to torture, to rape.

'Touch him, Harry.' McGonagall instructed, a tight band around her chest. She steadfastly refused to cry.

 

'Draco?' The bed dipped once more under Harry's weight. 'It's me again.' His hand shook as it hovered over Draco's hair. 'Harry.'

'H...H...?' That voice was back again. The agony had stopped, for now at least, leaving an ache that was easy in comparison. 

'Don't try to speak. You need to save your strength.'

'D...dreaming.' Draco turned his head to the sound of Harry's gentle voice. He was too afraid to open his eyes, knowing that he would only see darkness, the four walls of the Cell closing in around him. The sound of his own screaming. Not the soft cadence of the voice that promised him the world.

'No, you are not dreaming.' Harry's hand finally fell to Draco's head. 'If you were, I'm sure you wouldn't be dreaming of me.' He stroked Draco's filthy, matted hair away from his sweat slicked forehead.

Despite it all, Draco almost managed a smile, slipping away into sleep.

'You are going to be okay.' Harry choked back a sob, tears streaming down his face for the boy who was his sworn enemy.


	4. Chapter 4

Some of the many candles that illuminated the hut were extinguished. The room enveloped in a quiet, comforting blanket of subdued light. A hush fell over the four people who watched Draco. 

Hagrid could not keep his feet still. He paced the floor, unable to settle in one place. Eventually he took himself outside, not wanting to fully realise that there was a very sick student flitting in and out of consciousness in his house. It was too terrible for the giant to contemplate. Fang stayed close to him, not understanding why there were so many people in his home.

Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall each took a side of Hagrid's enormous armchair by the fire. The healing spells that had been performed over Draco had left the two witches in need of a few hours rest.

And Harry. He stayed right where he was. Sitting on the bed, watching Draco breathing, his hand never stopping in the steady stroke of Draco's dirty hair.

 

The person he had always thought of as his enemy had turned into someone else. The blond boy who had been the bane of his life at Hogwarts was not the same one lying in Hagrid's bed. This Draco was lost, alone in a world that had done him so very wrong. Harry instantly thought back to that fateful day in the toilet block. How different could things have been if Harry had acted in another way, If they both had? With words instead of wands. Would Draco still be here, sleeping fitfully, tossing and turning and mumbling incoherently?

Harry had believed that he had already seen the worst humanity could achieve. Tonight had proved him horribly wrong.

He had seen a bright young man, with the world at his feet, reduced to a broken, shivering wreck. Prolonged torture, vile abuse and neglect had brought Draco to the point of death. Draco was safely wrapped up again under the soft furs, his eyes constantly moving under his closed eyelids. Dreaming, waking, trapped in nightmares. He was warm, almost comfortable and healing. But Harry couldn't shake the images running through his alert mind. Images that would haunt his days, visit him in the nights.

A naked boy who had been tortured, starved, beaten, raped and left to die in the forest. A Draco who had cried, sobbed and screamed for the agony to stop. A Draco who had allowed him to drip water onto his poor lips, desperate for a few drops of liquid.

No, Harry could never see Draco as his enemy. Not now, not ever again.

 

'You will soon be missed by your fellow student's, Potter.' McGonagall roused herself slowly with a cat like grace. 'Perhaps it is time you returned to the castle?'

'Yeah.' Harry agreed, not moving.

'Mr. Malfoy is out of danger. I don't expect him to wake any time soon.' She spoke to the dark haired boy kindly. 

'Okay.' But still he didn't move, intent on watching Draco sleep.

'I am about to head back myself.' She tried again. 'I need to inform Draco's Head of House about the situation and fetch him a potion for the rest of his injuries. Have something to eat, freshen up and get some sleep. You can return later when it is time for Poppy to apply the potions.'

'Will it hurt him? Harry's stomach dropped, surely Draco had already been through too much.

'Not like last night.' McGonagall told him gently. 'But it might be good for the boy if there was someone with him. You were very brave to stay, Harry.'

'Bravery doesn't come into it.' Harry shook his head. 'I...I had to stay.'

'Yes. I can understand that.' She nodded, a smile twitching her lips. 'Come along now, Poppy will be staying with him.'

 

The cool air was a welcome relief after the hours spent in the stuffy hut. Harry breathed deeply, feeling more like himself. Morning was almost upon them as they made their slow way back to the castle. The promise of sunlight on the horizon.

'Have you thought about what you intend to do once you have finished with school?' McGonagall asked conversationally, wanting to do something, anything, to get the silent boy to talk.

'Not really.' Harry shrugged. 'I guess I never thought I'd get that far.'

'You were very good with Draco tonight. I believe you would make an exceptional healer.' She decided not to think about the words Harry had just spoken.

'As opposed to a murderer.' He replied.

'Is that how you see yourself?' She asked, taken aback that Harry could think such a thing.

'It's what I did.' Harry said softly. 'I killed someone.'

'You did what had to be done. I...I wish it had not fallen to you, but there is no going back. You saved us all, Harry. You must never forget that.'

'I didn't save Draco though did I.' Harry whispered, shame and tears coming to the fore. 'It was too late for him.' He quickly scrubbed his hand over his tired eyes. 'How can anyone live with what has been done to him? How can any of us go back to normal after everything that has happened?'

'There isn't a normal anymore.' The headmistress put a hand on Harry's trembling shoulder. 'What has been done to Draco is abhorrent, I cannot comprehend it, I do not think I want to.' She shook her head sadly. 'There are no answers in any of this, Harry. The War, the deaths, the destruction. What has happened to Draco. There are no words that will make it better. We just have to keep on living, trying to make the best of it.'

'He won't. He will never get over this.'

'No.' Professor McGonagall agreed. 'He won't.'

 

The duo parted at the grand entrance doors. Harry nodded briefly at his Headmistress, not even trying to attempt a smile. He turned to head off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

Professor McGonagall slowed her steps, eventually stopping to watch as Harry shuffled off on heavy feet, his slippers damp from the morning dew.   
She had seen this boy as a babe in Hagrid's safe arms. She had watched helpless as he was left on the doorstep of a family that could find no love in their hearts for him. She had looked on as Harry did everything that was asked of him, without question, without pause.

Harry had indeed saved the world she knew. But at what cost to him?

Professor McGonagall finally allowed a solitary tear to escape. For the injured boy in Hagrid's hut. And for the one who walked quietly back to his own bed.


	5. Chapter 5

The Fat Lady made no comment when Harry whispered the password so very early. He hadn't been back all night, out roaming the halls no doubt, unable to sleep again. She allowed him entrance, the despondent, red eyed boy was on the verge of tears, she realised sadly.  
So many returning students wore that look now, and it was always best not to ask questions that she didn't want the answers to.

She swung silently shut behind him.

 

The shared bedroom was filled with the sounds of soft snoring. Thankfully the other boys were still asleep. Harry knew that he would not have been able to deal with any questions that would surely be thrown at him if they knew he had not been in his bed.

Not bothering to kick off his slippers or discard his dressing gown, he climbed up onto his bed, dropped the curtains to seclude himself from the rest of his friends, curled himself up into a tight ball, and began to sob.

 

The bedroom was slowly coming to life. Still safely ensconced in his bed, Harry listened as the other boys began their morning routine, moving around, sharing jokes and getting dressed. Harry knew that he would soon be required to move, to get up and face the day. To go down to a breakfast that would stick in his throat.

Harry wanted to escape, to go back to a boy only feet away, lying in a bed that swamped him. He didn't want to follow McGonagall's advice. He didn't need food, sleep. He needed to be sitting beside Malfoy.

 

'Harry?' Ron's voice broke through Harry's muddled thoughts. He couldn't move, too caught up in terrible memories of Draco and the way he had cried out, the way he had begged for the end. 'You awake in there?' There was a slight tap on one of the wooden posts of his bed. The boys in the room all knew not to peer into a curtained off bed, too much shared embarrassment had proved to be a valuable lesson.

'Yeah.' Harry answered, forcing his voice to work, hoping that it didn't sound like he had been crying for most of the night. 

'You coming down for breakfast, mate?'

He had to, Harry knew that. It would raise far too many questions if he didn't join his fellow Gryffindors. But the thought of food, the thought of pretending that everything was perfectly normal when he knew that his life had changed irrevocably filled him with dread.

'I'll be down in a bit.' Harry called out, hoping that it would be enough to send them all down to the great hall without him. 'Don't eat all the bacon.'

 

He washed, dressed. Looking into the mirror above the bathroom sink he saw someone old looking back out at him, someone he struggled to recognise. Tiredness made his skin grey, his eyes haunted by fresh horrors. He had to get moving, had to go down and pretend that all was well, that he hadn't spent the night crying over Draco's poor body. They wouldn't understand, his friends. They would never understand why he had felt the need to spend the night by Draco's side, why he was desperate to return to him. 

He pulled on his robes, plastered on a smile that had been perfected over the years and went to join his fellow classmates for breakfast.

 

The congealing mass of scrambled eggs made his stomach lurch. He moved the mess around his plate, trying to give the impression of eating without actually bringing the fork to his lips. How could he even think about eating while Draco lay in torment? How could anyone?

His gaze fell upon the Slytherin table. There they all sat, laughing, joking, going about their breakfast without a care in the world, oblivious to the plight of their fellow housemate. Who was responsible? Who had a parent, a father that had been complicit in the destruction of Malfoy? Who had raped him, tortured him, starved and beaten him? Who could he look into the eyes of and not see the offspring of a monster looking back? Would any of them know? Did any of them realise where Draco had been for the past months? Did a father or mother come home and brag about the tortures they inflicted upon one of their own?

'You okay, Harry?' Hermione, as observant as ever, watched as he continued to push the food around his plate. 'You look terrible.'

'Good morning to you too, Hermione.' He blinked heavily at her, dragging his eyes away from the table decked in silver and green.

'Have you been sleeping?' She ignored him.

'I'm fine.'

'Harry...'

'I'm fine.' Harry cut her off, not in the mood for further explanations. They would only be lies. He couldn't tell her, he couldn't tell anyone where he had spent the night. It was Draco's secret, one that Harry would carry to the grave if necessary. 

 

A cough tore through his body. He couldn't catch his breath, couldn't move. He was going to suffocate. Terror gripped him. Why wouldn't they let him die? When would this pain be over?

Hands that tried to be careful raked fire down his back. He gasped in agony as the hands held him upright, as they rubbed gently between his raw shoulder blades. He cried, trying to fight for a breath that just wouldn't come. In out, in out, a voice instructed, kind, understanding. A woman. That was new, strange. His visitors were almost always male. And never, ever had they been kind before.

He clawed his way back to the voice, the hand on his back finally bringing ease to his lungs.

'It's all right.' The woman soothed. 'Can you swallow?' She asked, urging him back against a pile of pillows. 'I'll get you some water.' She left him, her footsteps moving away. He had to see, he had to open his eyes.

The sharp sunlight came as a shock, burning his eyes as he managed to open them a fraction. He was expecting the complete darkness that always greeted him. The woman stood at the sink, holding a glass under a running tap. Water. There was water. And he knew he was no longer dreaming.

He blinked in his surroundings, a hut of some sort, a dizzy recollection tugged, just at the edge of his memory.

The woman came over, and Draco immediately recoiled. The place might be different, but why should the people?

She approached him slowly, the glass held in front of her body, as if to tempt him, a tool to tease, to barter with. Draco knew he would do anything for this gift. He would give them anything they asked of him for just a sip, a taste of the sweet liquid. He had begged before, why should the sunlight, the hut change anything? 

'It's okay, now Draco. You are safe here.' The face of the woman came into view, a soft, caring face. One that had looked after him before. It was Madam Pomfrey holding out the water. 'You are back at Hogwarts.'

 

He sobbed. Great wracking shudders that shook his body, made his healing ribs ache. He wasn't in that Cell. He wasn't being held under spells that ripped his body in two, that burned him inside, and promised only death. He was back at his school. 

Holding the glass to his lips, she made him sip the water slowly when all he wanted was to gulp it greedily down. Sip after sip after sip. She told him that his body wouldn't cope with huge amounts all at once. It would make him sick, would undo the healing from last night if he was to vomit and tear his insides with the force. Draco didn't give a damn. It could tear his body into shreds for all he cared. He needed the water, needed to feel it flood his mouth, soothe his ragged throat, bring him back to life.

 

'I need to borrow Potter for a while.' Professor McGonagall's head appeared around the door to Harry's History of Magic classroom. 'Quidditch business.' Her tone matter of fact, brokering no argument.  
'Of couse.' Professor Binns motioned Harry up with a wave of his hand.  
'It may take some time, Potter.' She made her voice carry across the attentive classroom. 'Don't expect him back for dinner.' She addressed his friends, closing the door tightly behind them both.

'Draco?' Harry asked once they were in the deserted hallway, his voice shaky.

'I have his potion.' McGonagall told him, gesturing to the slight bulge in the pocket of her robe. 'You still want to sit with him?'

'Yes, I do.' Harry nodded, doing his best to keep up with her fast pace across the stone floor.

 

He cried as Madam Pomfrey took the glass away, he wasn't done, he wanted more.

'Later, Draco. You'll thank me later, I promise.' She settled him back against the soft bedding, fussed with the covers.

The door opening made Draco start. Rationally he realised that he was safe, but his mind supplied darkness, hooded figures in silver masks that were ready to curse him into the Hell he was accustomed to.

Two people stood in the doorway. Professor McGonagall. And Harry Potter.  
Harry bloody Potter stood beside her, fidgeting with the cuffs of his ratty jumper, his eyes downcast, staring anywhere but at him. Then he did the unthinkable, raising his face to look at Draco, his green gaze meeting grey eyes.

And then it all fell into place.

Harry had been the owner of the voice that brought him back, the owner of the green eyes from his beautiful dream. He had dripped water onto his lips, he had made him feel beyond safe, cared for, protected him from the horrors of his nightmares. The Hero, the Golden Boy, the Saviour of the Wizarding World, the Boy Who Lived. It had been Harry who sat beside him all night, cried over him, touched him so carefully.  
Harry Potter had been his friend in the small hours when he had been left with none.

'Hey.' The green eyed boy spoke from the doorway. He looked afraid, a look that Draco knew he had never seen on Potter before. 'You are awake.'


	6. Chapter 6

Harry stood in the doorway as McGonagall made her way over to Madam Pomfrey, her hand already delving into her voluminous pocket to retrieve the vial of potion.

Grey eyes locked onto green, neither boy able to look away.

Draco felt himself flush under Harry's gaze. Whoever would have believed that Harry Potter would shed tears over the son of a Death Eater, the son of Lucius Malfoy? A boy who also bore the same fateful mark on his forearm as his father. It was unthinkable.

 

'I...I should go.' Harry found his voice, faint and full of an emotion he couldn't place. 'I'm sorry, Draco. I really am so sorry.' He could feel the tears welling in his eyes, the sight of the desperately sad boy in the enormous bed overwhelming. He wanted to go over to him, to bury his fingers back into his filthy hair and try to offer a little comfort.  
But he was powerless to help. Draco wouldn't want him here, didn't need him.

'Look after yourself, Malfoy.' His shoulders slumping, Harry backed away. 

Draco felt the panic rising. He needed the green eyed boy from his dreams. He didn't want to be left alone. But he couldn't ask, he wouldn't ask. Harry had already helped him, it was asking too much to beg him to stay. What would he think? They were not friends, never even close. Draco knew that ship had sailed long ago, it wasn't possible to go back, to take away all the hurt they had caused each other, all the words and curses. All the anger and frustration.  
He had to let Harry walk out of his life, never to turn around, never to speak, never to be his salvation. It was only fair.

 

'I...I won't tell anyone, Draco. I swear.' Harry whispered, his back pressed against the door, watching as Draco parted his cracked lips, ready for the vitriol and bile of his hatred toward him to spill forth. It didn't come. Instead tears flooded down his pale face, his mouth choking out a name.

'Harry...' 

The name spilled from him, shame colouring his cheeks. He had broken in the worst way. He had admitted out loud that he needed someone. Harry. He needed Harry. His body shook, unable to control the shivers, the desperate sobs that burst from his aching chest. He was reduced to nothing, a broken body filled with pain and humiliation. He wanted the Harry Potter from last night, wanted that soft, comforting voice, those warm, gentle hands. He wanted the Harry who had stroked his hair and made him feel safe. He wanted to be taken into arms that would hold him, make the pain go away. Arms that would never let him go.

The headmistress stood beside Madam Pomfrey, her heart aching for them both. Watching Harry as his hands twitched by his side, unsure what to do for the best. Not knowing whether to flee or throw himself onto the bed.

They had been enemies since that very first day at Hogwarts. She had watched it grow between them, allowed to fester until it was beyond their control. Children from such different families, but both lost. Both set on paths that were out of their hands, both so very alone.

She watched silently as Harry stepped forward, finally breaking out of the spell they both seemed to be under.

'It's all right, Draco.' Harry whispered. 'It's going to be all right.'

'Don't...Don't go.' 

'I'm not going anywhere.' Harry told him, his feet taking him to the bed.

 

'I'm going to put you to sleep now, Draco.' Madam Pomfrey spoke to him, holding out the tiny bottle, inky black against the light from the window.

'No...Please, don't.' Draco shook his head. 'I...I can't.' His voice still so very scratchy. It pained him to talk, but he had no choice, they had to know. He couldn't close his eyes, didn't they realise that it would only take him back?

'It's going to hurt.' She warned. 'You have already been through so much. You don't have to suffer anymore.'

'I can't go there...'

'Where?' Harry asked softly, still standing by the bed, his hands still twitching.

'That...That dark place.' Draco whispered, all of his attention fixed on Harry. 'When I close my eyes...'

'You are not there, Draco.'

'I...I am...' His eyes, wet and huge looking up at Harry. 'Please. Don't.'

'He's terrified.' Harry looked across at a very concerned Madam Pomfrey. 'You can't put him to sleep.'

'I don't want to put him through any more pain, Harry. It is not necessary for him to feel a thing.'

'No...Not the dark place.' Draco trembled, his mind fracturing. 'Don't.'

'Okay.' She sighed softly. 'But I'm going to have to warn you, Draco. This potion will hurt. It will clear the infection in your wounds quickly, but for the duration of the application it will cause you pain. And you will need to keep still. Will you be able to do that for me?'

'Y...Yes.' His voice breaking on a sob. He had no choice.

 

Draco allowed Madam Pomfrey to unwrap him from the relative comfort of the furs, his naked body once again bared to the hut. She had him lean forward, getting up behind him. 

There had been very little she and McGonagall could do about his back last night. It would have killed the boy had they tried to tackle the infection when he was so very weak. It was now safe to apply the potion that would enable his body to begin the healing process.

'You need to keep as still as you possibly can, Draco.' She told him again, uncorking the bottle. 'This will hurt.' She eyed the open wounds on Draco's back. Now that she was so close to him, she could see the utter severity of the punishment. 

It was truly terrible. A mess of open wounds, crisscrossing over ones that had clearly tried to heal themselves. It was a wonder that Draco had managed to survive. The infection was virulent, black blood drying across his back and shoulders. The lash marks had bitten deeply, cutting into his young skin with such force. A heavy hand had been behind the whip. Frequently.

Harry stood mutely beside the bed, trying not to look at Draco's body, trying not to remember the events of last night, the imagined images of torture that must have brought about his injuries. He wanted to touch him, to be close to him once the potion was put onto his split skin. But it wasn't done. Yes, Draco wanted him to stay, wanted him near. But surely that did not extend to touching him? 

 

The slow fire began in his shoulders, spreading into his skin and causing his back to cramp with agony.

'Burns.' He bit back a gasp, trying to keep from moving away from the hands that were rubbing into his wounds.

'I know.' Madam Pomfrey paused in her terrible ministrations, her fingers dripping with the viscous liquid. 'It will help, I promise. You are being so brave.' She had started with the shallowest of the whip marks, but still it would cause untold pain for the blond boy. If only he would allow her to put him to sleep.

He inhaled sharply when she touched the open skin again, his body twisting.

'Hurts...' He choked, drawing blood from his bitten lip. 'Can't.' Draco reached out, his hands grasping in thin air. 'Harry...'

'It's going to be okay.' The agonies of the boy too much to stand, Harry climbed up onto the bed. Proprietary be damned. He took hold of Draco's flailing hands. 'You are doing so well. Not much more.'

'I...I can't.' Draco sobbed, his voice breaking. 'Make...Make it s...stop.'

Harry drew him in, pressing his forhead against Draco's, his body so very close. It didn't matter that Draco was naked, it didn't matter that they hated each other, that the only words they had ever uttered to each other before yesterday were filled with hostility. All that mattered was Draco, his desperation, his pain, his tears. The way he had reached out, asking for him. 

 

He drifted in a black sea of raw pain, the only light came from the boy who held onto him, dragging him back from the darkness.

'Almost done.' Madam Pomfrey spoke gently. 'You are doing really well.' Her hand dipped to the base of his spine, rubbing more of the horrific potion deeply into an open lash wound. 'Let me put you under, Draco, please.' Her voice thick with emotion.

'No!' Draco screamed, terrified. 'Don't...So...so dark...'

'Ssh.' Harry whispered into his ear, his hand tight in his hair. 'It's going to be all right, you are safe here.'

'Dark.' Draco babbled, confused. 'Can't...can't go... Back.' His head shook against Harry's shoulder, heavy tears leaking, running over Harry's neck. 'They...They will come for me.'

'No one can get you.'

'No...Please.'

'I'll keep you safe.' Harry murmured. 'I promise you. I'll keep you safe.'


	7. Chapter 7

Draco couldn't recall the last time he had felt this safe. 

Perhaps when he had been really little and allowed to sleep in the big bed? Mummy and Daddy either side, protecting him from the imaginary monsters that lived under his bed.  
He should have realised back then that the monsters under his bed were nothing compared to the cold, hard truth. It wouldn't be the monsters who would hurt him. It was the humans who had turned out to be far more dangerous than any demon his young mind was able to conjure up.

Mummy and Daddy... His memories forced him from the hut and into darkness.

He would never see them again. Never again hear his mother laugh, never again see his father reprimand him for some slight infraction. They were gone, cast aside by the whim of a maniac. His entire life wiped out in a fraction of a second, a blink of his eye. He remembered the screaming, his mother pleading that her son be spared. The laughter that had greeted her request. The humiliation that her pleading had brought him.  
They had tried. Tried to save him, tried to not watch. But it was all in vain. The last memory Draco had of his parents had been terrible, too cruel to think about. If only they had kept their silence, if only they had watched quietly as Draco had suffered. They might have still been alive.

No. Draco knew from the moment he had failed to raise his wand on the Astronomy Tower he had condemned them all to Hell. It was his fault. His parents had died because he was weak, because he had failed. 

He deserved all that had been done to him, he deserved more. 

 

Crying. Always crying.  
Curled up on the floor, kicked, bleeding, taunted. A circle of men, wands drawn. They liked to see him cry, to see him beg. They would always part for the one who demanded it. They would show Him what they had done, what Draco had always deserved.  
He liked to see, liked to watch. Liked to touch. 

Draco shivered, cold under the weight of too many memories. 

 

Harry brought him back.  
Whispered nonsensical words into his ear that Draco's tortured mind could not hope to comprehend. He rocked him back and forth, careful with his body, gentle when all others had only inflicted pain.  
Harry held onto him as he sobbed onto his shoulder.

 

'You need to be sleeping.' Harry informed him.

'No. No sleep.' Draco murmured. The thought of closing his eyes was more than he could stand. 'Can't.'

There was movement in the hut, hushed voices and footsteps. The afternoon was getting darker, the evening drawing closer. Were they leaving him? Was he to spend the night alone? Draco's stomach plummeted. He couldn't.

'You can't stay awake forever either.'

'I...I can't close...my eyes.'

'I know.' He felt Harry sigh, they were still pressed together, Draco wrapped carefully in the furs once more. Harry's hands soft on his sore back.

'I'm sorry.'

'Hey, you have nothing to be sorry for. Don't ever think you have to say that to me.'

'I do... So many times.'

'It's all forgotten.' Harry told him, his breath warm against his cheek. 'Don't think about it.'

'Why d..did you stay?'

'You...you looked so alone.' Harry answered him honestly. 'I couldn't leave you.'

'You don't even like me.' Draco whispered. 'We hate each other.'

Harry had no answer to that.

 

'Potter.' McGonagall's hand on his arm jerked him back to reality. He had been so comfortable, they both had. Draco leaning into him, his breathing steady, the terror abating. 'It's getting late, the evening meal will be starting shortly.'

He felt Draco immediately stiffen, felt the panic rising.

'Your friends will have enough questions for you as it is.' McGonagall told him.

'I want to stay.'

'You...you need to go.' Draco's heart clenched. Harry wasn't his to keep.  
He had a life, friends that he had to get back to. Friends that would want to know where he had been all afternoon, friends that would expect to spend the evening with him. Homework, classes, laughter. They all belonged to Harry.

'I wanna stay here, with you.' Heat suffused Harry's cheeks.

'You can't. You need to get back. I'm okay.' He tried to push Harry away, tried to extract himself from Harry's embrace. He was too weak.

'You are rubbish at lying.' But he was pulling away, his warm arms were gone, and Draco was shivering again. 'Can I come back later?'

'I...I don't think you should.' Draco whispered, doing his utmost to hold it all together. It was for the best that he push him away now. It would hurt less this way. He couldn't allow himself to get close to Potter, it was already too risky.

Draco was broken beyond repair. He was dirty, used. His body was no longer his. He couldn't allow someone as inherently good as Harry to be around someone like him, it just wasn't fair. Harry was light, happiness, a life worth living.  
He was darkness, pain and fear. A Dark Mark. No. Harry couldn't be around someone like him.

 

Harry lay him down, fussed with his covers.

'Are you going to sleep?'

'I can't.' Draco told him, not meeting his green eyes. It hurt to look into those eyes and see the pain reflected back. Harry was huting too.

'Let me stay.'

'No. Go...go back, Potter. I have to do this alone.'

 

They were holding him down, they were pulling at his legs, wrists. Stretching him out for all to see. Hands crawling over his body, leaving scratches, making him bleed. He tried to shout out, tried to beg them to stop with there foul torment. But no. Hands and teeth, fingers and nails. Dragging over him, turning him around and around. His legs were forced apart, made to ask for the unthinkable.  
The Dark Lord. He was there, smiling his wretched grin.  
Made to look into those soulless eyes and cry. Sob as pain raced up his spine, as he felt his unwilling flesh tear and accept this sickening intrusion. As his innocence was wrenched from him, never to feel the same again.

Mother crying in the corner, Father silent with horror. Watching as Draco was reduced to nothing. A toy to be used, a plaything to torture.

 

He woke gasping, couldn't breath.

'I'm here.' Warm arms wrapped around him, pulled him in and held on.

'H...Harry?' His broken mind supplied. It wasn't possible. He had watched Harry open the wooden door, stepping out into the afternoon sunlight. 'You...you left.'

'I came back.' He murmured, for him alone to hear. 'I'm not leaving you, Draco. You can't push me away. I won't let you.'

'Go... Please.' Draco sobbed. It wasn't fair. How could he let go after this? Those strong, safe arms. Sheltering him from all the horrors. The nightmares that threatened to visit, the memories that would never be erased. How could he survive being alone again after the warmth of Harry Potter?

'I can't leave you, Draco. I'm not going to.'

 

'Harry has to go back to the castle eventually.' Madam Pomfrey looked down at the two boys curled around each other. 'He will miss the evening meal.' 

'I shall think of something to tell his classmates for tonight.' Professor McGonagall came to stand beside her. 'Heaven knows that Draco needs him right now.'

'Potter's friends are the brightest of them all, they will know that something is amiss.'

'Yes. I am afraid that Harry will have to face some tough questions if he is to stay by Draco's side in all of this.'

'He is not going to leave the boy in a hurry, Minerva.' Poppy sighed. 'But I for one am glad that Draco has found someone. It has been a long time since he has had anyone looking after him. His injuries are a testament to that.'

'How was this allowed to happen? How did we all fail him so very badly?' The headmistress asked her friend. 'How did we not see?'


	8. Chapter 8

Hagrid stood in front of the closed door to the hut. It was his home, he shouldn't be afraid. But still his hand paused, fist ready, but unwilling, to knock against the wood.

Surely Malfoy had died? How could a child survive with such terrible injuries? His poor, broken body lying in his bed, never to throw an insult, never to move, never to breath again. He would burn the place to the ground. Hagrid decided, sudden tears clouding his vision. How could he ever live in such a place again?

The feel of the thin body in his arms was too terrible to think about. His fractured bones, the blood, the little whimper of pain. It was too much.

There had been too many deaths already. Too many students lying unmoving on the ground. Lives not yet lived snuffed out in a flash of green or a screamed curse. Gone. And now another. A little blond boy. A horror, sure. One that had almost ended his newly founded career at Hogwarts, a boy that had almost gotten his beloved Buckbeak murdered.

It didn't seem to matter now.

He could picture the sight that would greet him should he gather up his courage and knock, be admitted into his house.

Malfoy would be on his bed. They wouldn't have the heart to move him, not yet. The gasping breaths he had tried so hard to take would have stopped, his sunken chest motionless and silent. His pale skin grey with death, eyes open and empty. Would Harry be with him still? Would he have stayed?

So much death.

 

Someone was knocking. A faint tap, afraid, hesitant. Harry could hear it through his fog, a bone deep weariness that threatened to pull him under. Draco was in his arms. Not sleeping, never that. But still, quiet. Calm. It was enough, for now.

The door opened with a squeak. Draco tensed, hearing the sound for himself.

'Ssh, it's okay.' Harry soothed, running his hand over Draco's hair. It worked, the body in his arms stilled, finding comfort in Harry's few words. Draco trusting him implicitly. Harry couldn't think about that, not now. When this was all over, he would think about it then. Think about the way Draco clung to him, his fragile arms holding him as tightly as they would allow, his head on his shoulder, his body pressed close to him. Later. Much, much later.

 

'Hagrid!' McGonagall's exclamation roused Harry further. He realised that he had not given his friend any further thought after last night. Everything had happened so fast. Hagrid had fell from his mind, taken over by Draco.

'Is...is he dead?' Hagrid asked, his voice shaking, his footsteps not venturing further than the doorway.

'No.' Professor McGonagall was quick to reassure him. Harry's heart sank upon hearing the words. Shame washing over him. How had he forgotten Hagrid so completely? He must have spent the night and day alone, thinking that he had found Draco in vain.

'He made it through the night.' McGonagall continued. 'He will recover.'

'How?' Hagrid was incredulous. 'He...he was dying.'

'You found him in time.' McGonagall's voice was kind, clearly Hagrid was shocked. 'If he had been out there any longer...' She didn't need to finish her sentence. 

'You saved his life, Hagrid.' Harry spoke, turning his head so he could look at his friend. 'Thank you.'

 

'Noise.' Draco whispered to Harry, his fist curling weakly into the front of his robe. 'What..?'

'Hagrid's back.' Harry took hold of Draco's hand and held it to his chest, his attention back to being fixed entirely on the boy in his arms. 'Nothing to worry about.'

'He...he found me.'

'Yes. He brought you here, to his home.'

'I remember.' 

'Everything?' Harry had to ask. Please, please let there be some gaps.

'I remember it all.' He spoke softly. 'I...I can't ever forget.'

 

More movement. So many footsteps, so many whispers and hushed voices. They were talking about him, always talking about him. He heard the door open, someone leaving. But it wasn't Harry. Harry who lay with him, holding his hand, talking to him, bringing him back.

Hours passed, minutes. Draco didn't know. Harry was his world, his safety. The only thing that Draco wanted.

 

'Is he sleeping yet?' Madam Pomfrey leaned over them, talking to Harry.

'He can't.' Harry told her. He couldn't help but feel self-conscious by the way Draco held onto him, by the way he held Draco. His cheeks flushed as he looked up at the woman who had cared for him multiple times during his childhood. He cleared his throat, forcing down the embarrassment. If Draco needed this, needed him, then he could have it, no matter who saw. 'He still doesn't dare close his eyes.'

'Too...too loud.' Draco murmured, his face pressed into Harry's neck.

'I'm sorry, Draco.' Madam Pomfrey spoke to him. 'But I have to ask.'

'No. Leave...leave me.'

'I have something here that will help you to sleep.'

'Can't.'

'I guarantee you that this will help.' She held out a glass of water. 'I have put a little Dreamless Sleep potion in here. Can you drink it for me?' Draco turned his head, wanting the water, but not the darkness of sleep. So thirsty. It wasn't fair.

'Not...not sleep.'

'You have to, Draco.' Harry's voice. 'You won't get better if you don't sleep.'

'Don't care.' 

'I do. Please. For me?' Harry asked, and Draco was lost.

 

He allowed Harry to sit him up. It hurt, it hurt to move, to breath. But Harry was there, easing him gently back against a pile of Hagrid's pillows.

'Almost done.' He told him, touching his face gently, stroking his fingers over Draco's streaming eyes. 'You will be able to sleep soon.'

'No.' Draco shook his head back and forth. 'Please, Harry. Don't...'

'I promise you, Draco, you won't have a nightmare. It's a Dreamless Sleep potion. I've used it before. You can close your eyes and before you even know it, it will be the morning and I'll be here.'

'You...you are going?' 

'I have to go back to the castle. McGonagall has already gone. She is going to make up an excuse for me, but I still have to go back.' Harry paused, his heart breaking. He wanted to stay, friends be damned. He wanted to lie back down with Draco and stay in this little bubble of warmth and comfort.  
But he had to go. McGonagall's excuse would only last for so long. Ron and Hermione would come looking eventually. They would find him here. They would find Malfoy.

'Okay.' Draco nodded, looking away.

'You'll drink?'

'If...if you want m...me too.' He couldn't help but cry. If Harry wished it, Draco would drink. Knowing full well what was waiting for him in the dark.

Harry pressed the glass to Draco's lips.

 

He really had gone this time.  
Draco could see Harry from the window. Watched his feet moving slowly over the shadowed grass. Watched as he didn't turn his head, didn't look behind. Didn't come back.  
It was for the best.

 

The potion washed over him, dragging him down. The hut fell away. The quiet chatter from the two remaining voices drifted, caught in the air and vanished. The memory of the way Harry had held him faded. His safety gone. The darkness was coming, claiming him once more. They said he wouldn't dream. They promised.  
They lied.

 

He was drowning.  
The light was so very far away now. He couldn't hope to reach it. Blue, black and horrible scarlet flooded his vision. It was in his throat, his ears, his eyes. Choking, suffocating. His hands trying to claw their way to the surface. Breathing in the thick air, coughing, screaming.  
They couldn't hear him. No matter how much he cried out, sobbed, begged. They were oblivious to his terror. The darkness was all around him, all over his body. He couldn't wake.  
He had told them, told them all that he coudn't go back, didn't dare close his eyes. But they made him. He drank when he wanted to scream. He swallowed the tainted water because Harry asked him to. 

 

'There...there's something wrong.' Hagrid watched over the boy, saw how his eyes moved erratically under closed lids. Noticed how Draco appeared to be trying to move his head. 'I think he's awake.'

'That's impossible.' Poppy told him, but joined Hagrid by the bed nonetheless. 'The Dreamless Sleep potion will make him sleep for hours yet.' They fell into silence, both watching Draco intently.

'Look!' Hagrid pointed as Draco's lips parted. He looked like he was fighting for breath. 'I told you, he's awake.'

'Oh my.' Pomfrey gasped, horrified. 'He's...he's not awake. He's in a nightmare.'

 

'Draco? Draco, can you hear me?' She was on the bed, roughly shaking his shoulders. It would hurt his healing body, treating him this poorly. But the pain would wake him. It was all she had left.  
Spells, incantations, they had no effect. Draco was trapped in his nightmares, his head thrashing wildly, his eyes rolling, but no closer to waking.  
His reaction to the tried and trusted potion was terrifying. She had gotten it so very wrong.

Draco had known. But had done what was asked of him anyway.


	9. Chapter 9

'I can't believe you missed dinner.' Ron exclaimed, stuffing bacon into his mouth like it was becoming extinct. Harry's stomach protested so much at the sight he had to turn away. He couldn't eat, couldn't even think about it. His dry toast sat in front of him, untouched. 'Actually, I didn't hear you at all last night. What time did you get back?'

'Erm... It was late. I'm not sure. After eleven, I think.'

'It's rather irresponsible of McGonagall, Harry.' Hermione spoke up. 'She should be aware of your welfare.'

'Come on, Hermione, it's Quidditch!' Ron told his girlfriend. 'Even I'd miss a meal for that!'

'I still don't understand why it took so long.' She shot Ron a disapproving glare. 

'I think after everything that has happened, McGonagall wants this year's season to be a memorable one.' He bit down on the corner of his toast, trying at least to make the effort in front of his friends. 'I was going over old tactics, looking at the form of players, that kind of thing. It's not all her fault, Hermione, I got caught up in it.' Harry lied to their faces.

'You could tell me all about it on the way to Hogsmeade.' Ron bounced. 

Of course, it was Saturday. Harry realised suddenly. Saturday. And a much discussed trip into Hogsmeade. They had talked about little else in the lead up to returning to school. And now he couldn't go. No, not couldn't, Harry thought. Didn't want to. He wanted, needed, to be elsewhere. He would have to lie. Again.

 

'I'm not coming.' There was no point in putting it off.

'What? Why?' Ron looked immediately crestfallen. 'But it's been planned for ages!'

'I...' Harry stuttered. 'I...'

'There you are, Potter.' McGonagall was by his shoulder. 'Are you ready?'

'Ready for what?' Hermione frowned, looking up at the stern headmistress.

'I am afraid I shall be needing Potter's assistance once again.' She told the disappointed pair. 'I'm sure you can manage one day without his company, Miss Granger.' Hermione's face flushed under the intense scrutiny.

'We...we were going to go Hogsmeade today.' Ron piped up, finally done with his breakfast.

'I'll come next time, Ron.' Harry smiled, eternally thankful for the sudden rescue. He dropped his barely eaten breakfast back onto his plate and stood. 'I'll see you when you get back. Get me some sweets, would you?'

'Yeah, sure.' Ron didn't attempt to hide his disappointment.

'There will be plenty more trips into Hogsmeade, Ronald. And perhaps it would be good for you and Miss Granger to spend some time together, without Potter accompanying you.' She nudged Harry's arm. 'Come along now, Potter.'

 

'Thank you.' Harry said, once they were out of earshot. 'I couldn't think of anything to say to them.'

'Harry...' McGonagall paused, uncharacteristically unable to find the right words. 'There...there has been a problem.'

 

'You said he wouldn't dream!' Harry shouted, Madam Pomfrey getting the full force of his anger.

'And he shouldn't have.' She replied, knowing that Harry had every right to be furious with her.

'I...I lied to him. I made him drink.' Harry's voice broke.

'This is not your fault.' McGonagall told him. 'None of us had any reason to suspect that the potion would not work.'

'He knew. He told us, but we did it anyway.' Harry began pacing in front of Hagrid's hut. Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall deciding that Harry needed to work through his rage before going in to see Draco. 'He is never going to forgive me.'

'Draco understands.'

'I'm not sure I do.' Harry bit back. He didn't blame them, not really. He had been the one to press the glass to Draco's lips, making him, almost forcing him to drink the liquid. Draco had cried, Harry remembered with a lurch. He had cried and begged Harry to not make him. He had known all along that the potion would make him go back. Back to those terrible dreams, back to the torture and the pain. He had done that to him.

'Harry, Draco is awake now, Madam Pomfrey managed to bring him around. He is going to be okay.' McGonagall was calm in the face of Harry's anger.

'No, he isn't.' Harry shook his head, his voice losing the fury. 'He is never going to be okay. He has to live with what was done to him. And I didn't help. I hurt him in the worst way.'

'You were not to know.' Madam Pomfrey tried to placate him. 'The care of Draco lies solely with me. I was the one to urge the potion onto him. You are not to blame, Harry.'

'I made him drink it. He...he only did it because I asked him to.' He scrubbed his hand over his brimming eyes. 'He knew what it would do to him. He begged me not to make him. I...I did this, Draco doesn't need me to do this to him. He doesn't need me at all.'

'That is certainly not true.' Madam Pomfrey smiled, the first one for many anxious hours. 'When Draco woke, your name was the first word he uttered.'

'Yeah, probably because he thinks I did it on purpose.' Harry continued to seethe. 'He said it himself, we don't even like each other. He must think I did it out of some twisted form of revenge. I should go back, leave him be. It clearly would be better for him.'

Harry didn't hear the door behind him opening, none of them did. 

'Malfoy is crying.' Hagrid spoke, instantly stopping the small group in their tracks. 'I think he's scared of the raised voices.'

'We are coming in now, Hagrid.' McGonagall told him. 'We all are.' She gave Harry a pointed look.

 

'Wait.' Harry hesitated on the top step. 'How...how long was he asleep for?' He didn't want the answer, not really. But he had to know how long Draco was trapped in his nightmare for.

'I am afraid it was for the majority of the night, Harry.' Pomfrey told him with a heavy heart. 'He was still for most of the time. It wasn't until the early hours that Hagrid noticed something was wrong.' She stopped to stand beside him, her arm around his shaking shoulders. 'I am so sorry. I never would have put him through that had I known.'

'What happens now?' Harry asked her quietly. 'I want to help him, but I don't know how to.'

'You already have. Draco needs you to be strong, to get him through what he has suffered and all that he will continue to go through.'

'How can I be strong for anyone when I can't even do it for myself?'

 

'Draco.' Harry couldn't make his feet move. Could hardly breath at the sight. Draco propped up in the bed. His face deathy pale, his eyes red rimmed and damp with tears. He looked shocked, stunned. Lost. 'I...I'm so sorry.'

'Not...not your fault.' Draco coughed, his throat closing around his words.

'You told me, I didn't listen.' Harry shook his head, pain building behind his eyes. 'Do you want me to go? I'll understand if you want me to leave you alone.'

'Don't go.' Draco's voice was so soft that he had to strain to hear him.  
Harry tried, he really did, but the cracked whisper from Draco had him in tears. Again. 

'I'm so sorry.' He couldn't help but repeat, an endless loop of apologies. It would never be enough. It would never take away what he had done. 'I...I thought it would help. I thought you would sleep.'

'Harry, stop.' 

'Don't forgive me, Draco, please, don't. I sent you back there.'

'You...you killed Him, didn't...didn't you.' Draco swallowed heavily, needing to get the words out, even if it felt like swallowing glass. 'Voldemort.'

'Yes.' A nod, a whisper.

'I...I always knew you would.' His lips quirked, almost a smile.

'I didn't.' Harry admitted. 'I just wish I had been able to do it sooner. So many people died, Draco. So many people hurt by him. Look at what he did to you.'

'I...I deserved it.' Draco hung his head, unable to look into those green eyes. The time had to come, Harry had to know that Draco was nothing. No, lower than that. Dirty, vile, unspeakable. Harry needed to go now. Walk out the door and never turn back. Harry didn't need him in his life, messing it all up and causing problems. He was free now, free to do whatever he wished. He didn't need a filthy, worthless little whore ruining everything. 'I deserved it all.'

'Draco...' Harry was up on the bed, wrapping his arms around Draco's trembling body. 'Don't ever say that again.' Harry whispered, a cold fury to his words, his anger barely in check. He wanted to rage, scream, tear holes in the world. How dare that excuse for a human do this to him? How dare anyone? 'You didn't deserve anything.'

'I...I did.' Draco sobbed. 'They...they said I did.'

'They were wrong.' Anger sparking off his skin, crackling the air around them. 'So fucking wrong.'

 

'We need to get Draco to the castle while most of the students are in Hogsmeade.' McGonagall spoke. She, Pomfrey and Hagrid sitting around the surprisingly small table in the living space, talking quietly between themselves. 'But I am reluctant to move him.'

'Moving him should not cause any further harm, Minerva.'

'No, it's not that.' She glanced over to the pair on the bed, feeling for all the world like a voyeur. 'Who would want to disturb a moment like that?'

 

Harry lay on his side, the back of his dark head visible to the three faces turning in his direction. He was whispering. So softly, so carefully that they couldn't begin to hear to what he was saying.  
It was not for their ears. It was for the boy who lay with Harry Potter, the boy tucked close to his body. Warm, comfortable, safe. Protected.


	10. Chapter 10

'We have to move.' Harry told Draco gently, immediately regretting it when Draco clutched him tighter.

'No, no, no.' Draco cried, his head shaking back and forth. 'Stay, stay here.' Panic setting in. 

'We need to get you back to the castle.' Madam Pomfrey stepped forward. 'You are not well, Draco.'

'Don't...don't care.' He sobbed. 'Leave me here.'

'You need a bed, a bath. I'm going to have to give you a full examination. To be able to care for you, you have to be inside the castle.'

'No.'

'Listen to me.' Harry sat in front of him, carefully taking Draco's bruised face in his hands. 'You can't stay here anymore. You need to be looked after properly.'

'Can't... I can't. Harry, please.' His tears ran down Harry's fingers. 'Don't let them.'

 

Madam Pomfrey had taken the hard decision not to try any further spells on Draco. There was something at work on his body that she didn't understand. The spells to heal him had helped somewhat. But nowhere near to the extent that they should have. He was still filled with pain, with shaking and trembling.  
And then there was the Dreamless Sleep potion. It had never failed her before. He should have slept without worry, without the torturous dreams. It hadn't worked. She had to return, to get Draco inside the school. But that meant the short journey had to be taken with a fully conscious Draco. A boy who wasn't healing properly, who could hardly bear to be touched, who had to be carried.

 

It was a sound that pulled at Harry's heart. Soft, choking. A scream from an already raw throat. It couldn't be contained, couldn't be helped. Draco cried, his hands once again reaching out for something, someone, who wasn't there.

'I'm sorry.' Hargrid murmured, his own tears held back. He tried to hold the boy gently, tried to lessen the pain. But it was beyond his control.

'Hurts...'

'We will get you back as quickly as possible, Draco.' McGonagall spoke, her voice tight, dry. Someone had to be strong, someone had to take the responsibility. 

 

Harry walked beside Hagrid and his unbearably light burden. Draco was well covered, his naked pain concealed beneath numerous covers. Should anyone stumble across the pair, they would be forgiven for thinking that Hagrid only carried rags.

Rage boiled inside of him, listening to the quiet, heartbreaking sounds Draco was making from under the blankets. The muffled sobs ripped through his head, burned in his chest. It was torture for Draco to be picked up, to be carried the short distance to the castle. But there was no other way.

He wanted to hunt down the man who had left him, the animal who had done this to Draco. And tear out his disgusting throat. With his bare hands. Harry knew he would take delight in killing the man, killing anyone who had hurt Draco.  
He wanted them all dead. Azkaban would never be good enough. He wanted them suffering, wracked with pain and fear. Screaming in terror, blind with agony.  
Just like they had done to Draco.

 

He was warm, dry, clean, dressed in the softest pajamas that Madam Pomfrey could find.  
But so very alone. His legs twitched under the heavy covers, pain lancing up his back and through his limbs. 

Harry couldn't stay as he was examined. Draco could not stand the thought of Harry seeing him like that, all laid out for him to see, not again. Nowhere to hide in his own skin. He had to beg him to leave, had to get through this alone. He pushed him away, made him walk out of his room and not return.  
This was the way of things now. He had to get used to it.

 

He had all he needed for the night. A small room, small bed, a chair, water, blankets, blazing candles that chased away the darkest of shadows, even a stack of books. Gilderoy Lockhart grinning that insufferable grin from the top of the pile. Clearly even Madam Pomfrey was not immune to his charms. Draco wanted to reach out and turn the book over, to stop that face looking at him. But he hadn't the strength.

Pomfrey was only feet away, sitting outside his closed door at her desk, pouring over books and parchment, trying to find anything that would give her some clue, some sign, as to why the Dreamless Sleep potion had caused only strange dreams and dark nightmares. All Draco had to do was say her name, whisper it, and she would come.

She knew all his shame, all his body. It had been her hands that had gotten him into the salted bath, her hands that had washed away the blood between his legs. She knew what had been done to him, they all did. How his body had been used. His stomach clenched at the thought, the little clear soup Pomfrey had gotten into him threatening to reappear.

Harry knew.

 

The slight tap at the door made Draco start, overwhelmed by dark thoughts. Whoever it was didn't wait for him to reply.

'I have a visitor for you, Draco.' Madam Pomfrey put her head around the door. A smile gracing her lips. 'It appears that he cannot keep away.'

'Hi.' Said Harry, pink staining his cheeks 'I thought you might like a little company?' His voice hopeful.

 

'I brought you something.' Harry told him once Pomfrey had closed the door firmly behind him. Holding out his hands, Draco could see that Harry was carrying with him some books and a strange looking blue thing resting on the top. A rubber bag with a stopper. 'It's a hot water bottle.' Harry noticed Draco scrunching up his forehead in confusion 'It's a Muggle thing, it will keep you warm.' He placed the items on the bottom of Draco's bed, mindful of his legs. 'I've put a charm on it, it will stay hot for hours. You always look so cold.' He added softly, embarrassed.  
Harry held it up, the water inside making the soft rubber bulge. 'Can I?' He gestured to the bed.

Draco nodded slightly. Whatever Potter had brought, whatever that thing was, it appeared innocuous enough. Harry lifted up a corner of Draco's covers, his hand shaking. This was Malfoy, his brain reminded him. They didn't do this, they were not like this. He ignored the thought, sliding the bottle beside Draco's trembling legs.

'Warm.' Draco spoke, his eyes widening.

'Yeah, hot water.'

'Where...where did you get it?' His voice little more than a faint whisper, his throat still desperately sore.

'I've had it for years, found it in the bottom of my trunk.' Harry sat on the hard chair placed beside Draco's bed. His eyes falling on Lockharts book. 'Oh, I can't be looking at his bloody face.' He instantly turned the book over. Draco had to smile.

'When I was little I caught a cold.' Harry continued with his story. 'Couldn't get warm, couldn't stop sneezing. My aunt, in a rare moment of compassion threw it into my cupboard for me.'

'Cupboard?' Draco frowned.

'It's a long story.' Harry shrugged. 'I'll tell it to you one day, if you'd like?' Pleased when Draco nodded. 'She also gave me some old books. They were a right state, my cousin had almost destroyed them. Pages missing, scribbled all over, the covers torn off. Anyway, she gave them to me. I loved those books.' Harry said wistfully. 'I couldn't get enough of them. Read them all cover to cover so many times that they all but fell apart in my hands. They...they became like my friends.' Harry blushed, surprised at himself for telling Draco something he had never spoken about to anyone before. 'I didn't have any friends when I was little, but I had them.' He reached out and picked up the book on the top of the pile. 'When I came home for the Christmas holidays in my third year, the books were gone.'

'Where?'

'My uncle threw them away.' Harry swallowed at the memory. 'They were old, he said. Old and smelly.'

'I...I'm sorry.'

'I had money, I went out the very next day and replaced the lot.' Harry grinned. 'All brand new, leather bindings. I spent a fortune.' He ran his hand over the immaculate cover. 'Never told anyone I had them.'

'You t...told me.' Draco coughed, the words sticking in his throat. Upset at Harry's tale.

'Yeah, I guess I have.'

 

'I thought that perhaps you might like to read them?' Harry spoke, finally breaking their easy silence. 'While you are stuck in this room.'

'Thank you.' Draco told him, beyond touched at Harry's thoughtfulness. 'But I... My eyes, I...I can't focus on words at the m...moment.'

'Oh. I didn't think. Stupid of me.'

'You...you could read them to me. If...if you wanted to.'

'I'd like that.' Harry smiled, finally feeling useful. 'What would you like to listen to first?'

'What's that?' Draco's eyes fell to the book held in Harry's lap.

'This one? It's Oliver Twist.' He held it up so Draco could see. 'It's my favourite.'

'What's it about?'

'It's a Muggle story, a classic written a long, long time ago. It's about this little boy who doesn't have a family. His parents are dead, people are cruel to him. He is all alone in the world, and his life is pretty rubbish.'

'It sounds sad.'

'At first.' Harry admitted. 'You think that life cannot get worse for him, and for a while it can't. But he is found, rescued by kind people, people who will love him.'

'That one.' Draco whispered, eyes transfixed on the book.

Harry opened the cover and began to read.


	11. Chapter 11

Parchment and dog eared books, pristine writings and scrawled sentences all lay before Madam Pomfrey's tired eyes. But still nothing. Why wasn't Draco healing as well as he should be? Why didn't the potion work? What had happened to him in that place? Questions that she did not have the answers to.  
She turned a page over.

 

Harry also turned a page, still reading after several hours of sitting beside the blond boy. It was beyond late, more early morning now. Sunday loomed large. A day spent catching up with homework, spending the day with friends, laughing, joking, surviving.  
It was what he did now, it was what they all did. Pain cleverly held behind smiling eyes, jokes thrown around, tears held inside. There was no going back, no recovery from the horrors. The very worst of it lying in the bed beside him.  
Draco forcing himself to stay awake, blinking back the grit and fear. Wanting so desperately to give in, to close his exhausted eyes and forget, if only for a moment.

'I'm not leaving you.' Harry told him, breaking from the book. 'You can shut your eyes.'

'No.' He turned his head towards Harry. 'I can't do it.'

'You can. You don't have to be afraid.' Harry closed the book, set it aside. 'Is there anything I can do? Any way I can help?'

'You are helping.' Draco admitted. 'Just b...being here is...is enough.'

Harry reached out, his fingers finding Draco's listless hands lying on top of the thick blankets. Fingertips ghosting over trembling skin, bruised, cut, aching. Draco taking comfort from the gentle touch.

'Thank you.' He murmured, blinking heavy eyelids, looking at the boy sitting beside him. 'What...what do you think people would say?'

'About what?' Harry's fingers moving slowly over Draco's palms, drawing circles.

'This. Us.'

'Couldn't care less.' Harry shrugged, allowing himself a smile. 'It's got nothing to do with anyone.' His fingers moving higher, hardly brushing the bruised skin circling Draco's wrists.

Draco sucked in a breath, his skin a deep purple and aching.

'Oh, sorry.' He instantly snapped back his hand. 'I didn't think.'

'No. It's okay, just a little sore. Don't...don't stop.' He could hear himself begging. Ashamed by the note of desperation in his voice.

'Whatever you want.' Harry whispered. 'Close your eyes, Draco. I won't let anyone hurt you.' He carefully ran a solitary finger over the darkest bruise.

'Metal.' Draco told him, his head falling back against the pillows, his eyes closing against his will. 'They...they kept me chained to the wall. Unlocked me when they wanted to take their fun.' He felt the rage coursing through Harry's body, making the water jug shake. It was that strong. 'They t...told me that if I was good, if I did what they wanted, they would take the cuffs off. So I did. I did what they asked. But...but they lied to me. So tight. They kept them so tight.' Draco's hands trembled. 'I...I couldn't escape.' Tears escaped from under his eyelids, trickling down his face.

Harry picked up Draco's hand, threading his fingers through Draco's. Fragile bones shifting under translucent skin.

'I can't make it better. I can't make it go away. But I can be here.'

 

'I think I have found something.' Professor McGonagall stood before Pomfrey's desk, waking her from sleep. A small book, old and made from faded blue fabric, clutched in her hand. 'It might begin to explain what is going on with Draco.'

'Where did you find it?' Immediately alert, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. 'I've been seaching for hours and have had no luck.'

'I was going through the books that had been taken from Dumbledore's office. I guessed that if anyone would know about the spells of He Who Must Not Be Named, it would be him. Turns out I was right.' Holding out the book, she placed it into Madam Pomfrey's waiting hand. 'There are a lot of things written in that book I am sure Dumbledore never intended to see the light of day. Spells that raise questions, questions that we shall have to ask Draco.'

 

'Harry? Draco?' The tap on the door startled them both, lost in each other. 'Can we come in?'

'Of course.' Harry called out. Draco waited for Harry to pull his hand away, to put some distance between them. He did neither. Instead of tugging his hand from Draco's, he got up off the wooden chair and sat on the bed, drawing Draco's hand into his lap and cradling it gently. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

'Have you found something?' Harry asked.

'I believe we may have.' McGonagall told him, taking the place Harry had vacated. 'Draco, could I ask you a few questions? You may find them difficult to answer.'

'Can't we do this later?' Harry asked sharply. 'He's exhausted.'

'It's okay.' Draco told him. 'W...what do you need to know?'

 

'Cruciatus.' Draco told them. 'He...He was fond of that.' His breath quickened at the memory. 'He liked to make m...me scream.'

'Can you remember any others?' McGonagall asked, reluctant.

'Not the names. Just...just what they did to me.' Draco told her, feeling Harry's hand tighten around his.

'Could you tell me?' She asked gently. 'I know it's hard, Draco. But it is important.'

'I...' Draco faltered, eyes finding Harry. 'I don't know.'

'You don't have to do anything you don't want to, Draco.' Harry told him. 'This is entirely up to you.'

'We could try again tomorrow.' She said kindly. 'Let you get some rest.'

'No.' He shook his head. 'I want it over. What...what do you want to know?'

 

'He sent everyone out.' Draco leaned heavily against Harry, drawing strength from his close proximity. 'I was still chained up. I...I think I'd been... Touched. He liked them to get me ready for him.' Swallowing hard, Draco forced down the bile in his throat. He could do this, he had to do this. 'I remember crying. He was laughing, telling me that it was my fault. That I had done wrong, that I deserved all the punishment.'

'It's not true.' Harry whispering to him, his hand warm and gentle, his thumb rubbing along the back of Draco's hand.

'His voice was like a snake. Getting into my head. I couldn't keep him out. I...I had to believe him. They all believed him. They did what they were told, they...they alway did.' Draco sobbed, his words disjointed, confusing. 'So many hands.'

'He can't do this.' Harry spoke up. 'Don't ask him too.' His attention turned to Draco, shivering, crying. 'You will have to figure out how to help him without all the questions. It's not fair to put him through it.'

'He...He called out.' Draco continued, lost in his waking nightmare. 'Called to someone, I...I don't know who. They...they brought my mother.'

'Draco, don't.' Harry begged, his voice full of tears.

'She wasn't hurt. I...I was so happy. She...she would rescue me.' A smile twitched Draco's tear stained lips, his eyes staring. 'Mother. Please.' A heart-wrenching sob that had Harry clench his teeth, almost afraid that he would start yelling for Draco to stop his shocking story, to scream at McGonagall and Pomfrey to get the Hell out. But all he could do was listen.

'She was crying. She was sad for me. I tried to talk, but He...He broke my jaw. Then Father was there. I...I didn't see him come in. I was going home, they had come to get me. My Mummy and Daddy had come to take me home.'

'Can you tell us what happened next, Draco? Pomfrey asked, worried about the vacant look in his grey eyes. He wasn't with them. He was back in that terrible place. 'I know it's difficult for you, but the more we know, the better equipped we will be to help you.'

'Father was crying. I'd not seen him cry before. I...I was scared. I wanted to tell him that I was all right. That I wasn't hurt. But...but I couldn't lie to him. He could see what they had done to m...me.' A gasp, a hard breath. 'So ashamed.'

'It's okay, Draco.' Harry whispered to him. 'You have no reason to be ashamed. Don't even think it.' Draco didn't hear him, too far gone in his memories. 'Don't do this to him.' Harry looked to the two women. 'You are going to break him.'

'I'm sorry, Harry. But something happened to Draco in that Cell. We have scant information, we have to know.' McGonagall told him. 'Draco, please.' She urged the blond boy to continue.

'Mother tried to move, but she couldn't.' Draco did as McGonagall wished, his eyes locked on the wall ahead. 'I...I think she was going to come to me. He wouldn't let her. I...I only wanted a touch. She was my Mummy. She begged Him to let me go. She said to take her instead. Not Mummy, better it was me. He laughed, He always laughed. He made Father look at me, made him see what they had done. Then the spells again. Mother screaming, begging him to stop. He...He said he would. But Father had to kill her.'  
Chest heaving, panicking. Draco clutched at Harry's hand, weak fingers flexing uselessly. 'I...I didn't want that.'

'I know, ssh, I know.' Harry tried to soothe him, but knew there were no words in the world that could help.

'He gave my Father a knife. He...He told him to kill Mother. Said that he could take me home, that it would all be over. Promised. She told him to, said to kill her, to cut her with the knife. To make it stop. I...I thought he was going to. He held it out, ready to do it.' Draco gulped, on the verge of vomiting. 'He threw the knife away. It was over. And then...then He made them watch as he...as he hurt me. Chanting, cutting me with that knife, had...had sex with me. Made them watch. My Mother, my Father. They saw me like that.' Draco finally broke down. 

Harry couldn't stand it a moment longer. He pulled Draco tight to him, knowing that he had to be causing considerable pain. But Draco didn't cry out. He needed to be close to him, pain be damned. He leaned into Harry, burying his face into Harry's jumper.

'He killed them.' They heard him murmur, voice empty. 'Made me see. Left them. I...I couldn't reach, the chain wouldn't let me. I only wanted to be close.' He sobbed. 'Just one more time.'

'Are you happy now?' Harry demanded, his eyes locking on McGonagalls damp gaze. 'Look at him.' He put his hand on the back of Draco's head, holding him against his chest. 'You pushed him too far.'

'Harry, we had to know.'

'That sick fucker tortured him, killed his parents in front of him!' He all but screamed, unconsciously holding Draco tighter. 'And you made him relive it!'

'Harry...'

'No. Get out.' His voice calm, determined. 'Leave us alone.'

'I am sorry.' McGonagall hung her head, Harry had never seen her looking so dejected, so very upset. 'It was not my intention to distress Draco. But... We had to know.'

Harry knew his anger was directed at the wrong person, but it didn't take away from the fact that Draco was terrified by the questions, broken and back in the darkness. Draco was his priority right now. The feelings of anyone else didn't matter. 'Please, just go. I need to take care of him.'

'We shall come back in the morning,' Pomfrey told him. 'When we know what we are dealing with.' She gently took McGonagall's arm. 'Come, Minerva, I think we could both do with a stiff drink while we go over Dumbledore's book.' She led the shell-shocked headmistress from the room. 'Look after him, Harry.' Turning in the doorway, Madam Pomfrey smiled sadly, her voice soft, barely heard over the heartbreaking sound of Draco sobbing. 'He is going to need you.'

'I'm not going anywhere.'


	12. Chapter 12

His parents were dancing again.  
Round and round and round they went, holding each other, a swirl of tattered skirts and clicking heals. Skeletal hands reaching out for their son, beckoning him closer, asking him to join in their frightful display despite the clinging chains and the agony.

'You see them, Draco? You see them dance for you?' A sibilant voice, worming its dirty way into his veins. Sticking to his limbs, draging him down into the Hell that had been created for him. His dead parents whirling around the Cell. 'Join them, Draco.' Cold fingers touching his shackled ankles, creeping ever higher. 'Look at how they want you.'

'No.' Not a scream, his voice too ravaged for that.

'You deserve this, bastard child. You deserve all I can dream up for you.' Fingers higher still, clawing at his thighs. 'You think they liked watching you under me? Watching you writhe and squirm? They saw a darkness in you, Draco, a will to defy me. You cannot escape me, Draco. You shall belong to me. Forever.'

'No.' A thrash of his head against the hard stone floor, a plea sent skywards.

'There is no one left to listen to you, my dear boy. Anyone who ever cared about you is dead.' A whisper of His voice. 'And it is all your fault. Look at them, Draco.' A freshly healed jaw squeezed tightly between brutal hands, his head wrenched around, forced to watch. 'Look at how they dance for you.'

Slippery hands pushed and pulled and arranged tormented flesh. The dying boy forced to endure, forced to look at decaying faces set in rictus grins, twirling to music that wasn't there.

 

'Draco. Come on, Draco. Don't leave me now, I've only just found you.'

Eyes staring, unseeing. The green voice too hard to reach. The light fading.

'Draco, please!' A soft shake, a warm kiss. 'You have to fight this.'

 

'No...no more.' A sob. 'I...I'm sorry.'

'Beg me, sweet prince.'

'Make them stop.' Draco begged. 'I'll...I'll do anything you want, just make them stop.'

'Tell me you deserve this.' A thick hiss in his ear. 'Tell me that you like what I do to you, that you want more.'

'I...I don't.'

'You lie. You brought this upon yourself. Your parents dance because of you, they died because of you.' A sickening grin, a wet touch of a tongue against his cheek. 'I can make them do so much more. What would you like to see them do?'

'No...'

'Tell me, Draco.'

'Stop...'

'You continue to defy me.' A heavy slap, a split lip and the metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. 'You will do whatever I wish, you will grant me all I desire. You forget, you belong to me now, your parents cannot help you.' He stood, monstrous over the boy cowering on the floor. With a flick of his wand, the decomposing bodies stopped their harrowing charade, crumbling to the floor in a clatter of putrid flesh and bones. 'I will have you whipped for your insolence. Let's see how well you defy me after your pretty little back is softened once more.'

 

'Come on, Draco. Please.' Harry begged, terrified that he couldn't get a response from the blond boy, his eyes staring, glassy and wet with tears. Shaking hadn't helped, neither had the desperate kiss to his chilled forehead.  
He had been taken back too far. He hadn't been ready for the intense questions, imploring him to remember. 

'I'm sorry I couldn't help you. I...I didn't know you were there. I'd...I'd have looked for you, I swear it.' Harry held him close, panic setting in. 'I wish I could kill him all over again, make him suffer, make him feel everything. It was too quick. Please, Draco, come back to me.'

 

Blinking in the light.

He could still taste the blood, still remember the touch of a wet tongue, still feel the bite of that whip.

'It's okay.' Harry touching his face, his careful fingers stroking away the tears. 'It was a dream, only a dream.' 

'So...so real.' Coughing, gagging on blood that was no longer there. 'M...make them stop.'

'You are with me, you are not there.' Harry murmured into his ear, his body held tightly. 'Never again, Draco.'

'They...they danced.' Draco gasped, sobs roughly gripping his chest, his blunt fingertips digging into Harry's back. 'I...I can see them.'

'Who danced?' Harry had to ask, needed to know Draco's nightmares.

'Mummy. Mummy danced. Father. She... They died, but they...they...'

It just kept getting worse.

 

The dawn of a new day made itself known to the boys in the little hidden room. The first rays of sunlight inching through the small window, breakfast would be soon.  
But that didn't cross Harry's mind, thoughts of his friends making their way to the Great Hall without him were the last thing he was thinking about. 

The words still reverberated around his head. He couldn't take it in, couldn't understand it.

Draco. Claimed. Owned. Subjugated. But there it was in front of him, Dumbledore's scruffy handwriting, scrawled in the little book that lay open in his lap.

He had killed him, watched him vanish into the ether. His scar stopped throbbing, his mind was his own again. Voldemort was dead. But not for Draco.

Draco lay exhausted, his mind stretched to breaking point yet again, his hand carefully held by Harry. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.

The words spoken by McGonagall had made sense, the spells, the incantations. The murder of his parents. The horrific rape. It all fit with what Draco had told them, with what was written before him. But how was it possible? He was dead, Voldemort was dead, by Harry's hands. Dead and gone and never coming back. If there was one thing Harry was certain about, it was that. There was no link between them, no possible way Voldemort was still alive.

Dark magic, McGonagall had told Draco. Told them both. Evil, twisted spells that bound the blond boy to the Dark Lord.  
Removal of the Dark Mark would achieve nothing other than a severed limb, a life changed irrevocably. It shouldn't be possible to be owned by a dead man, death should have broken that bond.  
But it survived. It lived on in the Dark Mark, in the words carved into Draco's stomach. It was in his blood.  
An ownership that transcended death.

 

Harry stood, dropping Draco's hand, allowing the book to fall to the floor.  
Walking over to the window, he threw it open, the welcome burst of fresh morning air hitting his face, washing away the worst of the night. The long, lonely night. Hours spent watching Draco not sleeping, worried sick when he couldn't free him from the stupor the memories had caused. The vacant eyes, the random babble that spilled from his mouth. Harry was terrified of losing him.

'Harry?' A soft voice asked for him.

'You should be resting.' Harry answered, not turning around, afraid Draco would see his growing anger, his hopelessness.

'I'm sorry.'

'What for?'

'All this. For dragging you into my mess.' Harry could hear the break in Draco's voice, the promise of tears. 'You should go. Go back to your friends. Be...be happy.'

'I've not been happy for a long time.' Harry admitted, turning to face the boy in the bed, leaning against the wall. 'I...I though killing Him would be the end, would make it all go away. But...But it didn't work that way. I thought it would be over.' Harry hung his head, scrubbing an angry hand over his reddened eyes. 'They died, my...my friends died. I couldn't stop it, couldn't make it better. It...it should have been me. Why wasn't it me?'

'It's not your fault.'

'But it is. Look at what Voldemort did to you. What He is still able to do. It's never going to go away, Draco. He has a hold over everyone still. I...I should have done it sooner, I should have known what was going to happen.'

'You couldn't have known any of it. No one could. You...you killed him, you saved everyone.'

'I didn't save Fred. Professor Lupin. Colin. Snape. Hedwig. They still died.'

'And s...so many more didn't, Harry. Grieve for them, but don't f...forget who you did save.' Words sticking in his painfilled throat. It didn't matter. Harry was upset.

'I didn't save you.' Harry whispered.

'Yes, you did.' His cracked lips managed a tiny smile. 'You are with...with me now.'

'I don't want to be anywhere else.' A flush stealing over his cheeks, a shy smile to match Draco's.  
A push away from the wall. And a hand once again held in his.


	13. Chapter 13

She watched the dark-haired boy during the lesson. 

It had been six days since Hagrid's terrible discovery. Six days of fear, blind terror and a burgeoning friendship that Harry was struggling to contemplate.  
His face wore a convincing smile, and he interacted with his friends easily, a laugh never far from his lips. But there was something hidden, a hurt that he had buried deep. His usually quick reactions a fraction slower, his hands minutely shaky, his bright eyes clouded.  
The weight of carrying Draco's secret was heavy on his shoulders. The long nights spent by his side were taking their toll, and it was beginning to show.

 

'Harry, could I have a word about your Transfiguration essay?' McGonagall stopped Harry as he followed his fellow classmates from her classroom.

'I'll catch you up.' He called out, waiting until they had all rounded the corner before turning to the headmistress, his face chalk white and drained. 'Has something happened?' Instantly worried, his stomach in knots. 'Was it another nightmare? I was with him this morning, I knew he wasn't feeling great, but I left anyway.' Guilt his constant companion.

'Nothing is the matter, Harry.' She gently guided him back inside the room with a careful hand on his arm. She could feel him trembling beneath his robes. 'Draco is doing well, under the circumstances.' Closing the door in case anyone should be passing, McGonagall urged Harry to sit at one of the desks. 'No, it is you I am concerned about.'

'Me?' Harry replied, puzzled. 'There is nothing wrong with me.'

'Now that is not strictly true, is it?' The ever astute Professor tilted her head, fixing Harry with her best gaze. 'When was the last time you had a proper nights sleep, Harry? I want you to be honest with me.'

'I...I think...' Harry stuttered, turning his head away. 'I don't know.' He finally admitted, fiddling with a dog-eared corner of his Transfiguration text book, he wouldn't meet her eyes. 'It doesn't matter, I'm fine.'

'You cannot go on like this, you will become ill, and where would that leave you? Where would that leave Draco?'

'I'm not going to abandon him just so I can go to bed!' Harry immediately went on the defensive. The thought of not returning to Draco made his skin itch.

'And I would not dream of asking you to.' She tried to calm him. 'But Harry, you are not sleeping. You are not eating.'

'I am eating!' Again on the alert. 'At least I would be if you hadn't called me back.' He crossed his arms, leaning back in the chair. Fury flashing through his eyes.

'Are you quite sure about that, Potter?' She rasied an eyebrow. 'Madam Pomfrey has informed me that you spend your lunch hours sitting with Mr. Malfoy.' Harry remained silent, resolutely not making eye contact. 'You need to look after yourself, Harry.'

'I don't have the time, all right!' He snapped at her. 'I'm not the important one in all of this. He is.'

'Draco would tell you otherwise.' She told him kindly, well aware that Harry was not himself. He was tired, angry and frightened.

'His arm was hurting him this morning.' Harry told the desk in front of him, his voice dropping, the fight leaving his body. 'Just a little ache, he said. But I knew it was worst than that. He smiled at me, told me to go to breakfast. It's the Dark Mark. It's hurting him. It's going to get worse, isn't it? The nightmares, the pain in his arm.'

'We are doing all we can for him, Harry.'

'It's not enough.' Harry shook his head. 'I want to make things right, but I don't know where to start.'

'You are doing wonderfully by Draco. He is lucky to have you.'

'We are not even friends!' Harry's laugh carried no humor. 'He has no one, just me. Someone he hates.'

'Draco tells me you have been reading to him at night.' She spoke quietly, ignoring Harry's latest outburst. It was not surprising.

'It helps him sleep.' A small smile flittered across Harry's face, not quite reaching his eyes. 'We finished Oliver Twist the other night. He liked it. We are half way through The Three Musketeers now. He...he wanted me to read Dracula to him, but I wouldn't. Another monster in the dark. It might make things worse.' A soft sigh, a blink of wet eyes. 'If that's even possible.'

'Draco doesn't hate you, Harry.' She patted his arm. 'I don't believe that he ever has.'

 

'Soup first. Then book.' Harry handed over a bowl of warmed chicken broth. Noticing that Draco kept his Dark Mark branded arm tucked out of sight.

'I'm not hungry.' He told Harry, his speech improving day by long day.

'And I don't care. Soup first.'

'Where do they think you are? Your friends?' Draco took the offered bowl, balancing it in his lap. He asked the question that had been bothering him for days. He made no move to pick up the spoon resting in the cloudy liquid.

'It's late, they are all asleep.' Harry took up his usual place on the hard wooden chair beside Draco's bed, pulled it in fractionally closer. Madam Pomfrey had, on numerous occasions, offered to replace the chair with something more comfortable. An offer Harry consistently refused. Comfort might bring about sleep. A luxury Harry could ill afford.

His sleep was snatched in increments. An hour or two when he should have been in the Library, a skipped meal. A moment when Draco closed his own heavy eyes. He would sleep later.

'Not all the time.' Draco stared into his bowl, his stomach turning over at the though of spooning the mixture into his mouth. 'Do they not realise that you are never there?' 

'No.' Harry shook his head. 'Things are different now, Draco. The school feels different, and people move on. Ron and Hermione are together, Neville is always in the greenhouses with Professor Sprout, Seamus is off doing God knows what. Everyone is moving on, planning for the future.'

'And you?'

'I'm here.' Was all Harry answered. 

'What about that girl you were dating? Ginny, is that her name? Doesn't she wonder where you are all the time?'

'No.' Harry answered bluntly, reaching out to picking up the book they were reading, not wanting to have this conversation.

'Harry?'

'It doesn't matter, Draco. Just forget about it.'

'You broke up again?'

'We never got back together.' Harry sighed long and hard. 'It's not easy to explain, but it was never going to work between us. She is with Dean Thomas now. She is happy.'

'And you? Are you happy with it?'

'It has to be this way.' Harry shrugged, unable to stifle a jaw popping yawn. 'Ginny is happy, that's all that matters.'

Draco studied the exhausted boy who sat beside him. Right from the dark circles around his eyes, to the way he held himself, everything spoke of his unending tiredness. There was a slight tremor in his hands, the book threatening to fall to the floor at any given moment. He was clearly not sleeping, spending night after night sat here, reading aloud, granting Draco a peace he thought was long out of his reach. Harry Potter. It never failed to amaze him.

'It's not the only thing that matters, Harry.'

'No. You eating that soup before it gets too cold matters too.' Harry looked pointedly at the bowl in Draco's lap, still untouched.  
Draco picked up the spoon.

 

The slightest of whispers brought Madam Pomfrey running. The room was charmed to pick up any sound of Draco's distress, however small the noise.

'I...I can't help him.' Draco told her, tears choking in his throat. Panic making him unable to catch his breath.

Madam Pomfrey took in the sad scene. Harry slumped in the hard, unforgiving chair, his head at an uncomfortable angle, the dropped book at his feet, pages of his treasured posession crumpled against the stone floor.

'He w...was reading. His voice... It wasn't right. He...he just stopped, passed out.' Draco swallowed a sob. 'I...I couldn't do anything. I tried to get out... But I'm stuck, useless to him.'

She bent low, looking at Harry with concern, her wand already out and scanning the unconscious boy. 

'He...he's here every night.' Draco was powerless to stop his gasping sobs. 'He doesn't sleep. He stays with me, all...all night. Tell me...tell me he's all right. Please.'

'Harry has fainted.' She rose from her cramped position. 'He is exhausted, hungry. He needs to be in a bed. After a full night's sleep and a solid meal inside of him, Harry will be as right as rain.'

'Take...take him to his bed. Make him leave.' Draco begged, unable to tear his eyes away from Harry's weary form. 'Please, you have to help him.'


	14. Chapter 14

Harry could count on three fingers how many times he had shared a bed.

The first time was with Ron, in his little bedroom back at The Burrow. Ron had snored, and Harry had hardly slept, but anything was better than being at Privet Drive.

The second was Neville. Harry had woken late in the night to the soft sound of crying coming from Neville's bed. Not about to roll over and go back to sleep, Harry had gotten up, climbed in beside the crying boy and given him a sleepy hug. It was the anniversary of the day Neville's parents had fallen foul of Bellatrix.  
They fell asleep together. It was never mentioned.

And the third time Harry had shared a bed?  
Ginny. It was with Ginny. But the lest said about that the better.

Officially Harry could now add a fourth.  
Draco Malfoy.

 

He had always believed Draco's eyes to be a cold grey, hard and unforgiving. But now that he was so very close, Harry could see them for what they truly were.

Silver. Flecked with the palest of blue, they held a warmth that Harry hadn't know to be possible in such a light colour. Pain tightly in check behind them, but despite all that, despite everything, it still didn't manage to dim the intensity of colour that danced within those shocking orbs.

'You scared me.' Draco whispered, those beautiful eyes inches from his face, Harry couldn't help but stare into them.

'Did...did I pass out?' He remembered a sudden dizziness, a pounding in his head. And then nothing.

'You don't sleep.' Harry could hear the lingering traces of fear in Draco's voice. 'You...you stay.' Draco closed his eyes, robbing Harry of the sight, tears leaking down his cheeks. 'Don't. Not...not anymore.'

'Draco...' Again guilt clawed in his stomach. He was the one who had put that pain in Draco's voice. That sorrow.

'No. I...I can't see you like that again, Harry. Please.'

'Ssh, I'm sorry.' Harry's heart twisted, his fingers finding the side of Draco's cheek. Thumb carefully rubbing over still bruised eyelids. 'I didn't mean to put you through that. I really am so very sorry.'

'If I am not allowed to say that, then you musn't either.' A ghost of a smile, a flicker of that silver again, a twitch of his hand resting on the curve of Harry's hip deep under the blankets.  
Realisation finally crept up on Harry. He was with Draco. Close to him, lying beside him. In his bed.

'Erm, Draco. Why am I in your bed?' He felt his face flood with heat. Draco pressed so close to him.

'I think Madam Pomfrey is scared of you.' Draco shared his secret quietly. 'She...she thought you would be mad if you woke up in your own bed, or in one of the hospital ones. So, she put you in here. With me.' Draco's words rushing out of him, shy, hesitant. 'D...do you mind?' He lightly bit his lip, catching the soft flesh between his teeth and tugging slightly.

'She was right, I would have been furious.' Harry told him, wordlessly sending thanks to the foresight of Madam Pomfrey. It would have been more than he could stand to be away from the sick boy beside him. 'And no, in answer to your question. I don't mind.'

'It will be morning soon.' Draco murmured, already slipping into sleep. 'You should go.'

'It's not morning yet.' Through the crack in the curtains, Harry could see the break in the darkness, the threat of daylight on the horizon. But there was still time. 'Five minutes more.'

'Only five minutes.' Draco relented, his head resting against the warm fabric of Harry's pajamas. He could be happy here.

 

'It's really not the done thing, Minerva, but...'

'You did the right thing, Poppy.' Professor McGonagall put a placating hand on the arm of her fretful friend. 'It appears to me that Harry is on the edge of dangerous where Draco is concerned. The very air crackles around him whenever Draco appears to be suffering or is in distress. I fear the repercussions if Harry is forced to part from him. So yes, you were right in placing Mr Potter beside him for tonight.'

'I don't understand it.' Madam Pomfrey shook her head. 'The two of them, in there, together.' She gestured to the closed door. 'They are always knocking the stuffing out of each other, throwing hexes and insults, not sharing a bed, not causing the walls to tremble if they are parted.' She paused to shake her head once more, her own actions confounding her. 'I have never in all my years put two students in a bed together, it's unthinkable.'

'Ah, but Harry and Draco are not your typical students, are they.' McGonagall smiled.

 

'No. Please. No.' His head rocking back and forth against the pillows, cold sweat breaking out over his pale skin, his hands clenching into helpless fists. 'Hurt me...I...I want you to... Please, make...make it stop.' His words a jumbled mess, darkness behind his eyelids. The Cell in his head, breaking into his dreams. 'I...I can't. Don't.'

Hands on his shoulders, forcing him to wake. Long moments of disorientation, a blurred face coming slowly into focus. His little room, the school nurse leaning over him. Another nightmare, another reason to not close his eyes.  
His arm throbbing in time to his erratic heartbeat.

'Sit up, Draco.' Madam Pomfrey helped him lean against the pillows. 'You are okay. It's only a nightmare.'

'Only.' Draco coughed, fighting the urge to gag at the memories, at the images that were never far away.

'Water?' She asked, the glass already in her hand.

Draco eyed the water longingly, knowing that should he reach out and take it off her, he would surely drop it over the newly changed bed linens.

'I...I...' Stuttering, overwhelmed with shame at his own uselessness. He should be stronger now, should at the very least be able to take a water glass. 'I can't hold it.' He had to tell her, desperation for the water overcoming everything. His thirst reminding him of the Cell.

'Not to worry.' She told him kindly. 'I can help, it's what I'm here for.' Sitting beside him, she carefully put the glass to his lips, tipping it slightly. 'You don't dream when Harry is with you, do you.' It wasn't a question, she knew.

'Don't say anything to him. Please.' Draco sipped slowly at the liquid, quelling the urge to gulp. 'He has already done so much for me, I...I don't want him to know.'

'Draco...'

'No.' Firm, but with his eyes shining too brightly, Draco implored her. 'He doesn't need to know. I'm not going to be a burden on him. Harry has to leave eventually. I don't want him to think that he has to stay. That I cannot cope without him.'

'Harry makes for a good friend. He is extremely loyal to the people he cares about.'

'We are not friends.' Draco told her quietly. 'We never have been.' He turned his head away from the water, from her searching gaze.

'I'd say that has changed, don't you think?'

'I can't think about anything. I...I don't deserve him.' Unwanted tears clouded his vision. Crying again, he thought sadly. When would he be done with these infernal tears? He was a Malfoy, and Malfoy's didn't cry. Not in public anyway. Tears were meant to be hidden, were for closed doors and boys who couldn't cope. 'He's...he is too good for the likes of me.'

'Draco, you musn't think that.'

'His friends would hate me all the more for this. For taking him away. They cannot know. Harry has to leave. He has to.'

'He won't.' Madam Pomfrey stood, straightening her skirts. 'It took an age to make him return to his House this morning. Harry wants to be with you, Draco. Don't try and push him away. I believe it would be more than he could bear.'

'I...I don't understand why.' Draco couldn't help the sob escaping.

'You don't have to understand it, Draco. You just have to accept it.' She smiled sadly. 

 

Harry bolted down his lunch. Great swallows of bread and ham, washed down with orange juice. He would eat, he would sleep, however difficult. He would do it all for the blond boy who had cried when he had passed out.

Telling Ron and Hermione that there was a book he needed to get from the Library, Harry rushed off. There was no reason to look back, no reason to believe that Ron and Hermione would think anything odd about his behavior. He knew that he would not be missed, they had each other.

He didn't head in the direction of the Library, of course not. But in the direction of the hospital wing, desperate to snatch a few minutes with Draco before the start of an afternoon of long classes and an even longer evening.

His hopes for a quiet moment with Draco were however dashed when upon opening the door to his tiny bedroom, his eyes lit on Professor Slughorn, sitting in his chair. His hands folded upon his lap, he was chatting animatedly to a very tearful Draco. Harry immediately felt his blood begin to boil. 

'Professor.' Harry addressed him coldly, closing the door behind him.

'Ah, Potter. I was told you have been keeping young Mr Malfoy company during his spell here. We have been discussing his return to Slytherin House.'

'He is not going anywhere.' Harry's face set, his eyes regarding Professor Slughorn with a calm he didn't feel.

'Of couse not.' Slughorn shook his head. 'At least not until he is well enough to be released from Madam Pomfrey's more than capable care.'

'Not even then.' Harry told him, sitting himself by Draco's feet, his hand unconsciously finding Draco's leg and closing around it gently.

'I don't understand, Potter. Mr Malfoy cannot stay here indefinitely.'

'Oh no, but he is not returning to Slytherin.'

'And where do you suggest he goes?' Slughorn frowned, leaning back in the chair and appraising Harry.

'Have you even thought to ask him where he wants to go?' Harry had to force his voice to stay even, calm. 'What do you want to do, Draco? Be honest.' His eyes turned from the head of Slytherin House and stayed on Draco. Warmth and understanding alive in his features.

'I...I don't have anywhere else to go.' Draco finally spoke. 'I d...don't have a home. There is no money. There is no one. I...I want to stay here.'

'I want that too.' Harry told him, a smile just for him. 'But I don't want you to go back to Slytherin.'

'It is where Draco belongs.' Professor Slughorn interrupted.

'No.' Harry whipped his head around, glaring at the Professor. 'He doesn't belong there. You...you know what was done to him. You know what those people did.' He spat, his hand tightened around Draco's ankle. 'I don't need to remind you.'

'No, you do not.' The Professor shifted uncomfortably, all too clearly recalling that terrible conversation with Professor McGonagall several days ago. 'But I still don't understand your reluctance for Draco to return to his House. He is a Slytherin.'

'He was also raped, tortured. Left for dead.' Harry swallowed thickly. 'By Voldemort, by Death Eaters. By former students of Slytherin. Professor, can you promise me, hand on heart, that it was not the fathers, or the brothers, or the uncles of the students in Slytherin who did this to him? Can you?'

'I... Harry, I...'

'Can you?'

'I cannot. No' Slughorn hung his head, knowing defeat when he saw it, knowing that he had been a fool for even thinking about making Draco return to his House.

'Then you understand why Draco won't be returning to Slytherin. I will never, ever allow him to be scared, or hurt, or put in any kind of danger ever again. Draco is my friend. And as such, I shall defend him with every breath in my body. I will kill anyone who would dare to hurt him.'


	15. Chapter 15

If anyone were to glance out of a window on a cold, stormy evening in September, they would be forgiven for thinking that the saviour of the wizarding world had a death wish.

Roaring around the castle grounds, Harry clung to his broom, his hands little more than blocks of ice. Rain lashing down, wind threatening to tip him from the thin strip of wood clamped firmly between his thighs.  
The thunder was headed his way, turning the sky to midnight, but Harry gave it no thought. His mind already a malstrom of emotions that nothing could hope to compare to.

Dipping, twisting and turning around imagined obstacles, subconsciously searching for a Snitch that had not been released, Harry was never more alive than when he was flying. He could usually leave his problems on the ground. Nothing but air under his feet, gravity a minor inconvenience. But not tonight.

Almost losing his tenuous hold for the second time, Harry knew it was crazy to be out in the oncoming storm, lightning flashing menacingly in the distance. All it would take was a slip in a turn, a particularly forceful gust of wind, and he would plummet to the ground in a tumble of broken bones and torn flesh.  
For a long while after the War it wouldn't have mattered to him. Death would have been welcome.  
His reason for being was finished, his job done. 

A life with a pretty redhead on his arm, a metal band around his finger was what people wanted from him, and for a while Harry had believed that it was what he wanted too. But it wasn't to be. An unhappy ending to his already fractured life. So what was it to be now? A career in a profession he had never given a thought to before? Harry had never expected to live long enough for that.  
He had a house, he had money, he had friends. So what else could he possibly need in his life? He should be happy. He had no reason not to be.

But this 'thing' with Malfoy. No, Harry shook himself, fingers slipping on the slick broom. Not Malfoy. Draco. This 'thing' with Draco had come out of nowhere. Hitting his carefully constructed life, shaking him to his core.  
He had said friend. Said it and meant it. 

Sopping wet clothes clung to his frigid skin, soaked strands of dark hair plastered to his face. Harry didn't notice any of it, his thoughts solely on Draco.  
On the way that he had looked up at him after Slughorn had sloped off and Harry had closed the door firmly behind him. All huge wet eyes, full of apprehension and hope. Hope that Harry had meant every single word.  
It was never in doubt, not for Harry. The moment the words had spilled from his lips, he knew without question, without thought, that he spoke the truth.

And then Draco sent him away. Told him that he had to go, go and concentrate on his lessons, go and eat, sleep. Spend the night apart. Told him that he didn't want Harry to return until the morning.  
And it had hurt.

The only escape was flying. Harry knew that he couldn't spend the evening in the common room, stifled by chatter and inane gossip. He wanted Draco. Only ever Draco.

 

Landing took an effort, the gusting wind wanting to keep him in the air, wanted Harry for it's prisoner. Finally his feet touched firm ground. Head down against the storm, Harry made his way morosely to the changing rooms. He couldn't hope to notice that his slow progress across the waterlogged pitch was being watched by a single pair of eyes. Eyes that had watched him for days now. Knowing eyes.

 

The changing rooms were empty. There wasn't anyone else foolish enough to be out in this weather, the storm keeping everyone safely behind castle walls.  
He pealed off his sodden clothes, dumped them in an untidy heap on the tiled floor and snatched up a towel.

 

Warm water cascaded down his shoulders, pooled at his feet. Helping somewhat to ease muscles that had been coiled tight for days. Keeping his nocturnal life with Draco a secret was never going to be easy. But Harry knew that there was no other option. Draco was not ready to face the world. And perhaps he never would be. It was better like this. Just the two of them against the nightmares, the tears and the painfilled recovery.  
But this, this staying away was madness. Draco told him to sleep. But how could he? How could he get into bed and close the curtains and drift off? Draco wouldn't. He would lie awake, terrified of the darkness that lay in wait should he dare to close his heavy eyes. The curse that held his body in its grip, waiting to pounce, waiting until his guard was down. Waiting for the nighttime.

So caught up in his thoughts, Harry didn't hear the slight creak the door of the changing rooms made when it was opened. Didn't hear the soft footsteps over the pounding water, didn't hear someone sitting at the bench running the length of the room, waiting patiently for Harry to be finished with his shower.

 

'Neville!' Harry exclaimed, simultaneously covering his nakedness with the fluffy towel and placing a hand over his thumping heart. 'You scared me half to death. What the Hell are you doing in here?'

'Waiting for you.'

'You are? Why?' Harry frowned at the boy watching him.

'What's wrong?'

'What do you mean? You made me jump, that's all.'

'Where have you been these last few days Harry?' Neville cocked his head at him, not allowing Harry the luxury of escape from his gaze. 'Because I know you have not been sleeping in your bed. So where have you been?'

'I...I...Neville...' Harry squirmed under Neville's question. 'It's difficult.'

'Are you back with Ginny?' Neville crossed his legs. 'Because I know she was with Dean tonight. And you are out there,' he waved his hand around. 'Flying like a man possessed. Something has gotten you angry, hurt. Are you jealous of him, because I've never seen you like this before.'

'I'm not back with Ginny.' Harry sighed, wrapping the towel around his waist and dropping to the bench beside his friend. 'She and I are never going to be together. I...I know that is what people want, the supposed hero and his best friend's sister. It's the perfect ending.'

'Just not your perfect ending.' Neville said softly. 'I want you to be happy. And I don't believe that you are.'

'I don't know how to be.' Harry admitted, doing his best to stop the rising tide of tears that he knew would overwhelm him.

'It's okay, you know. You don't have to always be the strong one, the one with all the answers.' Neville slung his arm around Harry's bare shoulders. 'You can ask for help.' He was not in the least bit shocked when Harry finally dissolved into floods of tears. Pulling him in closer, Neville didn't say a word.

 

'Sorry.' It felt like hours had passed, Harry's tears almost spent, sniffing quietly against Neville's shoulder.

'No need to apologise, mate. Just returning the favour.' He grinned. 'I might not ever mention it, but I do remember that night you got in my bed. And I appreciate what you did for me. You being there made me realise that I wasn't on my own. Just like you are not now.'

'I...I haven't been sleeping in my bed.' Harry told him quietly. 'But I can't tell you, Neville. I'm sorry. It is not my secret to share.'

'Just tell me that you are okay. That is all I want to hear.'

'I am. Thank you.' Raising his tear streaked face, Harry smiled. 

'Then that's good enough for me.' His arm falling from Harry's shoulder, Neville stood. 'Get dressed, and if you like, perhaps we could head down to the kitchens and pester the House Elves for a late night snack. Unless...unless you have to be somewhere?'

'No.' Harry shook his head sadly. 'Not right now.'


	16. Chapter 16

The moment Draco sent Harry away he wanted him back.

Watching him leave the room had stretched every nerve in Draco's tired, broken body. He wanted him back, desperate to cry out for him not to leave. He wanted the stories and the gentle hand holding. Wanted Harry to touch him, protect him from the whispering in his head. The voice that patiently waiting for the darkness, for the loneliness to descend.

Harry may have said the word, may have even thought that he meant it, but Draco knew that he was only being kind. It was laughable that Harry could see him as anything more than a pale, pathetic creature, someone who he would surely only ever pity. Friend was not a word that could be shared between them. It was impossible. Something as big as that could never happen to the person that Draco was now.

All he had was the specters. Circling his bed, drawing ever closer.  
He had to stay awake. Only the light could banish them. The light. And Harry.

 

The House Elves welcomed the great and good Harry Potter into their kitchen with open arms. Neville too. The polite, unassuming boy from Gryffindor who accompanied a sad looking Harry. He held his arm loosely, almost as if Harry was ill, weak with some ailment that they were not privy to. Harry clearly needed sustenance, something the House Elves could more than provide for the wonderful Harry Potter.

Guided gently by this Neville, Harry was made to sit as they set about their task with unbridled glee.

 

In moments the excited Elves had filled the table before the two friends with piles of food. Great slabs of cold beef, fat sausages, wedges of cheese and warmed bread, puffed tarts dripping with cream and jam, chocolate buns that looked in danger of spilling from the plate and tumbling to the floor. Nothing was too much trouble for the saviour.

Harry eyed it all with trepidation, wondering if his stomach was up to the task, wondering if he should pocked a bun or two to take back to Draco.  
Draco. He was never far from his thoughts. He so wanted to return to him, defy Draco's wishes, his words, and go back to that little room. Pick up a book from the table and begin to read, like he had never been sent away.

 

His eyelids were too heavy. They flickered closed against his will. The voice in his head pressing against his skull. Wanting him to sleep, waiting for him to relinquish his hold on this new, beautiful reality that had been granted.  
The beckoning darkness was his world, the hooked fingers curling towards him, dragging him back, urging him in.

The Cell, that was real, that was all he knew. This, this was the dream. The candles and the bedcovers and those emerald eyes. A dream that he could no longer hold onto.

Darkness flooded his mind, that incessant hiss, thick like molasses, driping slowly into every pore, drowning him. Down and down Draco spiralled There was nothing left worth fighting for.

 

'There is something exquisitely pure in the suffering of the human form, don't you think?' The monster had returned. That cold body close to his, watching him, drawing a sharp fingernail across his sweating stomach.

'Yes, my lord.' A figure in a mask answering. Why bother with a mask? Draco knew that voice. This man was a father to a friend, a man he had known, a man who had raped him moments ago.

'Look at how he tries to scream. Look at the way he tries to move away from your touch. Do it again.'

'I think he won't survive, my lord.' A moments hesitation. A fraction of a second where this was not okay.

'Oh, he will. I will not allow the pretty little thing to die quite yet, you can be sure of that.' His mouth twisting cruelly. 'Do it again.'

 

Harry was on his third slice of tart when the sound of hurried footsteps broke through their laughter.  
They fell silent, food dropping to the table, listening as the clacking steps grew in sound. Their first thought was an obvious one. Argus Filch, and of course Mrs Norris. One never far from the other.  
It didn't take long for Harry and Neville to realise that those fast feet didn't belong to the caretaker. It was undoubtedly a teacher.  
Bracing themselves for trouble and a long detention, the boys gave each other a weary glance and stood as one, ready for the tirade to begin.

 

'Potter.' Professor McGonagall stood before them. Her hands wringing together, haunted, afraid. She certainly didn't look as though she was about to reprimand them for being out of the common room and in the kitchens any time soon. 'You...you need to come with me.' She struggled to find her words, her eyes flitting between the two boys.

'Go, Harry. I'll cover for you.' Neville looked from his headmistress to his friend, frightened by what he saw pass between them. Unspoken words that left Harry terrified, colour draining from his face in moments. 'You need to go.' He had to give the stricken boy a little shove, break him out of his stupor.

Neville had never witnessed Professor McGonagall like that. The Headmistress was always impeccable, had always been a strong, stern woman, always a voice of reason, of strength. Something terrible had to have happened to put that worried look on her face. No, Neville realised with a sickening jolt, not worried. Outright scared.

'Neville, I...I...' Harry stuttered, turning to his friend.

'I won't say a word. I don't know anything.' He shook his head, a smile of reassurance. 'You know where I am if you need anything. Anything at all, Harry. Please remember that.' A warm hand placed itself on Harry's trembling arm.'

'Thank you.' Harry felt his voice tear up. 

'Now get out of here.'

 

'Tell me what you are, Draco. My boy.'

'N...nothing. I am n...n...nothing.'

'Tell me what your Father would think of you, your dear Mother.'

'A...ashamed.'

'That's right.' A slippery smile, a wet touch. So close. 'Look at what you have become. They would be so very ashamed of you, darling boy. You are learning.' Snake eyes fixed themselves on the dark figures behind Draco. 'Again.' His terrible instruction barked.

'No, please.' Draco begged, his stomach turning to liquid. 'Please.' He could hear the collective sound of wands being drawn.

'Just when you start to bend to me, you show an act of willfulness. I will not have it, Draco.' A relentless fury from the figure over him. 'Do you not learn anything? Why do you insist on fighting me? You are mine now, my sweet child. I only want the best for you.'  
Down on his knees, his hand fisted in blond hair that hung in lank, sparse patches. Draco's head wrenched upwards, forced to look at what awaited him. This was his future, his past and present. 

There was nothing more than this cold, hard, disgusting touch. All of them, so many of the glittering masks, the black cloaks, the torment beginning anew.  
He was nothing.

 

'This is the second time you have come to get me with bad news.' Harry said, his voice flat, unable to meet McGonagall's concerned gaze. They walked down the empty corridors with a single direction in mind 'He's dead, isn't he.'

McGonagall wanted to say that she was shocked by Harry's almost question. But it only made her sad. 

 

'He screams when I touch him, he can't stand me in the room.' Madam Pomfrey was standing outside Draco's bedroom, her back pressed against the stone. She looked shocked, helpless. 'Burns, he says. He's in a nightmare. He won't, can't wake.' Her voice cracking. 'He needs help, help that I cannot provide.' Swallowing back her tears, she addressed Harry. 'Draco believes I am one of those people, he thinks I have come to hurt him.' She faltered, finally overcome by the horrors. 'I...I think he should be taken to St. Mungo's.' 

'Draco stays here.' Harry spoke, his tone resolute. 'If he goes into that place, he won't be coming out. You know that. They can't help him, not with this.'

'I'm not sure that anyone can.' Pomfrey told him.

He turned to the still silent McGonagall. 'He stays with me. If you send him away, then you also send me away. I'll take him somewhere you won't be able to find us. You are not doing this to him. I'll not see him passed around like some unwanted pet. Draco stays here.'

'Harry...' Madam Pomfrey interjected.

'That's the end of it.' He reached out for the brass doorhandle, turning it under his palm. 'Perhaps you should both go. I'll look after him tonight.' Harry slipped through the small crack he made in the doorway.

 

'Minerva?' Madam Pomfrey turned to the Hogwarts headmistress when the door clicked shut.

'Are you prepared to cross the only person alive who was able to kill the Dark Lord?' She didn't try and stop the slight smile that crossed her lips. 'Harry is right, Draco stays here.'


	17. Chapter 17

How could he have been so thoughtless, so callous, so very cruel? He was no better than all those who hadn't given a damn. No better than the ones who left Draco for dead. How could he face that almost silent weeping after what he had done?

Laughing, joking with Neville. Not a care in the world. Stuffing his greedy face with the efforts of the overworked House Elves. Hardly a thought about the boy in the bed. A boy who's broken sobs would haunt his nights, follow him to his grave. 

He kept hurting him. He was the one who left him, day after day. He was the one who had forced him to drink the poisoned water. He was the one who had listened when Draco said to go. That he needed to take a break, that he needed to sleep, to eat, to concentrate in his lessons. And he had the nerve to call himself Draco's friend.

Surely there was someone left in the world who would care for Draco better then he ever could. A relation, a treasured friend? There had to be someone missing him, someone losing sleep because Draco had disappeared.  
Harry feared he already had the answer.

 

Summoning was little remained of his courage, his strength, tears stinging his eyes, the dark haired boy swallowed down his guilt. Pushing his leaden body away from the safety of the door, Harry turned to that broken sobbing. Turned to the boy in the bed.

His breath caught in his throat. Panic squeezing his lungs. Cold fingers of dread reaching into his chest, stealing what little air remained.  
Harry had to reach out, had to put his shaking hand against the wall to steady himself. His knees weak at the sight.

 

Draco was held down by soft blankets that had once offered comfort. He had kicked them down the bottom of his tiny bed, his nightmare ravaged mind turning his body against him. Now they served as ropes, his ankles impossibly twisted, pinning his thin legs to the mattress. All the thrashing, the pleading, would not release him from his bonds.

Sweat soaked and sobbing, Draco had vomited down his front, the little soup he had managed to swallow over the last few days spilling down the pale yellow fabric of his top. And, Harry realised with a hopeless lurch, he had lost control of his bladder. The sheets beneath his body wet, his pyjamas sodden.

 

Harry didn't speak, he couldn't find the words.

Draco's head moved weakly from side to side, his eyes tightly closed, trapping the terror within. His left arm filled with cramp. His fingers curled around on themselves. Stiff and locked with pain. The Dark Mark making itself known. He whimpered quietly, softly. Afraid of being heard, terrified of the figures who no longer guarded his sleep.

'Draco?' A whisper broke free, Harry stepping minutely closer, his footsteps rasping on the hard stone floor. Draco flinched, his breath stopping, the tears stuck in his throat. They had come back for him. He had to stay quiet, vanish into the darkness. They might leave him alone. They just might.  
His body shrinking away from the voice. Just one night. Please, just one night left alone.

It was never going to happen. 

 

It was Harry.

Harry had found him in the dark. He was leaning close, his breath warm against his freezing skin. It felt shockingly real. A trick of the dark, a figment of his cracked imagination. Arms wrapped themselves around him. Elusive warmth bled into his broken bones, healed them. It didn't hurt so much.

'Harry?' He asked, his twisted fingers finding purchase on soft wool.

'Yes!' A joy-filled exclamation. 'Draco, yes. It's me.'

They'll find you.' A whisper laced with panic. 'They will kill you.'

'It's just us, Draco. I swear it.'

'No. They are waiting.' Draco's eyelids flickered. He tried to open them, but it was useless. He had to warn him. Harry had to leave. He had to run as far away from this place as possible. They couldn't get Harry too. 'I...I can see them.'

'It's only us.' Harry was crying, great rolling tears dropping onto Draco's thin hair. He held him, rocked him. But it wasn't enough. 

'He will kill you.' Draco murmured, his voice fading. Voldemort's curse rattling through his weakened body. 'He wants you. Don't...don't let Him find you with me. He wants to kill you. Run. Please, Harry. You...you can't help me. Leave m...me here. I...I won't tell.'

Harry couldn't stop the sob that tore through him.

 

'It's okay. You are okay.' Endless words, whispered for hours into Draco's shivery skin. He was quiet now, mute with shock. Harry's voice a balm for the pain, for the darkness that crept over him. He wasn't there, he knew that now. It had been a dream. A dream that would never fade from his sight, a dream that would follow him, follow them both. Forever.

Harry suffering in a different way. But he still suffered. Draco could feel it in Harry's close body. An ever present tremble that had been there from that first night. A sign that he did care, that he was never going to leave him, however hard Draco pushed at him.  
Harry said friend. And Draco knew now that he meant it.

 

I'm going to clean you up, Draco.' Harry told him, but still he held him close. He didn't care about the vomit, the sweat and the urine soaking into his own clothes. But Draco deserved to be clean and dry and safe once more.

Shame crept up on Draco, he was a state. How could Harry stand to touch him like this? The smell emanating from his filthy body was surely overwhelming. But still Harry held him. Only a child could be forgiven for wetting himself. And Draco was far from that.

'I'm sorry.' A cough from his scratchy, tear clogged throat. 

'No sorry's.' Harry shook his head against Draco's shoulder. 'Promise me.'

'But...'

'Promise.'

'I'm a mess.' His face flushed scarlet.

'You are not well.'

'It's been ages. I...I should be better now.'

'You almost died.' Harry's voice broke. 'I thought y...you were going to.' He pressed Draco closer. 'I...I never knew. I never knew what you... What you meant to...to...' Harry's sharp intake of breath startled Draco. 'After all this time. So much time.'

'Harry?' Draco couldn't stop his mirrored tears.

'Promise me. Just promise me that you'll let me stay. That you won't say sorry, that you won't turn me away.'

'I...I don't think I could.'

'I can't go back to how we were.' Harry pulled away, held Draco at arms length, needing to see those silver eyes once again. 'Tell me we won't. Tell me that we can do this, that we get through this. I...I can't lose you, Draco. Not now, not ever.'

'I promise you.' And Draco was once again back where he only ever wanted to be. Safe in Harry's arms.

 

Draco shook when Harry drew his wand. So many memories consuming him, almost pulling him back.

'I didn't think.' Harry looked down at the treasured piece of wood in his hand, hating what it now meant for Draco. He quickly shoved it back into his pocket. They would have to do this the Muggle way.

'It's okay.' Draco blinked, seeing the sadness cross Harry's features. 'I can stand it.'

'No. You don't have to. There are other ways of doing this, Draco. Without magic.'

 

He wasn't gone long, but still Draco could feel them circling the bed. If he only closed his eyes...

'You still with me?' Harry was there, on the bed, his leg tucked under him, his hand on Draco's cheek. Gently brushing away the last of the drying tears.

'Not going anywhere.' He smiled shyly. Harry knew, of couse he did.

'I've got water, soap.' He told him. 'Clean pyjamas. Mine, I'm afraid. I didn't know where to get spare ones. I hope you don't mind.' Draco shook his head, tried not to grin. 'Great! And fresh bedding.'

'You don't have to do this, Harry.'

'I want to. If...if you'll let me? If you would rather Madam Pomfrey?'

'No. You.' He closed his eyes, ashamed by what he was about to confess. 'I...I can't have anyone else touch me. I can't bear it.'

 

Harry had to draw his wand to spell the mattress dry. Draco turned away, shaking at the sight. How would he ever be able to hold a wand in his own hands again? Just the thought of gripping tightly to a thin piece of wood and feeling the power within his fingers made him feel sick. How could he ever hope to become a true wizard?

Harry kept his voice low, but it was no use, he felt the magic under him, seeping into his back. The warmth, the slight vibration. He wanted to scream. And then it was done, the wand quickly pushed away, shut in a draw for safe keeping.

'It's all right.' Harry stroked his hair, could see the fear in his rigid body. 'It's all done now.'

'T...thank you.'

'It's not always going to be this way. We will fix this, I promise you.'

'I'm too broken.' Draco whispered, his eyes filling with tears, unable to look at the boy sitting beside him.

'You are not broken, Draco.' Harry told him sadly. 'You are sad, hurting. And you have every right to be bloody scared. But we will find a way. We will get through this, I swear. You are not alone now. For what it's worth, you have me.'

 

He was so very careful with his body. Understanding of Draco's needs and fears.  
Stripping him naked, Harry took his time. Reassuring touches, quiet words of comfort. Stopping when Draco seized his arm, when he couldn't stand it. Sitting back on his heels and waiting for the trembling to abate, holding his hand when Draco could do nothing but cry.

Harry washed Draco's body with all the care and attention the exhausted boy deserved. Cleaned up the evidence of his nightmare, dressed him in his own pyjamas. They hung softly around his thin frame. A comforting warmth that smelled like the Boy Who Lived. Draco never wanted to feel the touch of his own clothes again.

Picking him up, Harry had to sit Draco down in the chair while he set to making the bed.

'You look like you have done that before.' Draco tried to ignore the pain in his back and buttocks the hard wood caused.

'Many, many times.' Harry smiled, working as quickly as he could. 'I had to do the housework when I lived with my aunt and uncle.' He told Draco, tucking the sheets tightly under the mattress. 'I guess it came in handy after all.'

'You hated them, didn't you.'

'Yes, most of the time. I had to make their bed, my cousin's too, when I didn't have one of my own. I hate them for that. So many time I wished I could get into one of the beds I had just finished. It always looked so soft and inviting. But I knew I would only get punished.'

'Did...did he hit you, your uncle?'

'Once. Only once.' Another thing that Harry had never spoken of.

'What happened?'

'I burned his tea. He yelled, I shouted back, told him I hated living with them, that I wished he was dead and not my parents. He had a bad day at work, I guess.' Harry shrugged at the memory. 'Anyway, I was carrying on, we were alone. I don't think he would have dared to do it if my aunt was home. She hated me, but she wouldn't want that. He lashed out, I pushed him too far.'

'You can't excuse that.'

'No. I suppose not.' Changing the pillowcases, Harry placed them neatly at the head of the little bed. 'He hit me in the face, broke my glasses. I had a black eye for weeks. He was a big man, strong.'

'Did your aunt ask you what happened?'

'She wouldn't ask me. He told her I tripped up, fell down the stairs. I know he felt bad for what he had done. He bought me new glasses. I think she realised.'

'I never knew, Harry. I...I always thought that you would have had a wonderful time at home. You were the baby who defeated Voldemort. Who wouldn't be proud of that? You mentioned about your cupboard, before.' Draco tilted his head, watching the boy who was making his bed. 'You slept in a cupboard, didn't you? They kept you like an animal.'

'They were frightened of me. Frightened of what I could do, of what I was going to become. So they made me sleep under the stairs. They wanted control of me, control over what they didn't understand.'

'You sound as though you have forgiven them.'

'I think I do, in part. I've come to realise that there are worst things in the world than three scared, stupid people who felt they could manipulate and frighten a little kid. I save my hatred for more deserving things now.' Harry pulled back the sheets he had just straightened. 'I refuse to waste any more energy on them.'  
He turned to Draco with a smile. 'All finished. You ready for me to pick you up again?'

A slight nod, and Harry was there. Gathering him up so very carefully.


	18. Chapter 18

Unseasonably warm for late September, teachers and students alike had decided to make the most of the early autumn sunshine and venture into Hogsmeade once again. Harry had gone along this time, knowing full well that another excuse would result in uncomfortable questions that he had no answers to. 

Yes, Harry trod the familiar path, quiet and in the presence of good friends, but his head remained back at the castle. He couldn't help but wonder if he and Draco would ever make this walk together. Side by side, laughing, joking, chatting with friends who accepted this strange new friendship easily.  
Probably not.

 

'Honeydukes first, okay?' Ron spoke up in the companionable silence. The sun shone down upon the quartet as they made their slow, meandering way into Hogsmeade, happy to follow in the dusty footsteps of the students ahead on the sun bleached path.

'Of course.' Hermione needlessly answered her boyfriend, reaching out for his hand. 'Harry, where do you want to go? You missed out last time.' She twisted her head in Harry's direction, back where he walked in tandem with Neville. He remained silent, no idea that he had been spoken to, his eyes fixed on the motion of placing one foot in front of the other. 'Harry?' A frowning Hermione still received no answer.

'Harry, Hermione is talking to you.' Neville told him quietly, nudging his shoulder.

'What?' Harry snapped out of his reverie, his head whipping up to face his friends. 'Oh, sorry.'

'Are you okay, Harry?' Hermione dropped back so she could walk beside him, taking Ron along with her. 'You have been rather quiet recently.'

''I'm fine.' He answered quickly with a reassuring smile. 'Just tired, I guess.'

'Not sleeping, mate?' Ron asked, knowing only too well the personal battles at bedtime.

'You know how it is.' Harry shrugged away the question. 'It's nice to be out.' Raising his eyes to the azure sky, he was quick to change the subject. Further questions would be most unwelcome.  
But it would happen.  
The queries would grow, all the evasive answers would one day explode in his face, doing untold damage to years of friendship. Lying was fast becoming a part of who he was now. Trips to the Library were never that, staying behind after class to speak to the teacher never happened, visits to the House Elves were a fabrication. All were stolen moments that were spent with Draco.

 

Madam Pomfrey almost had it right, but Draco still had dreams that shook his nights, made him cry and gasp and cling like a terrified child.  
But Harry would always make it better, nothing was as bad when Harry was there.  
He could take away the pain and the fear and hold him until he slept again, until he smiled.  
The nightmares that took him when Harry was away were unthinkable. Real, sickening. Every touch, every spell, every single event burning into his skin. But Harry didn't need to know that.

For his part, Harry had never known nights like it. That soft body shifting gently against his, that fluttering breath against his neck. Taking away all the uncertainty, all the fear that his future held. This was real, honest. And all with Malfoy. Harry marveled as his stomach made itself known in his throat.

 

He would buy Draco a Chocolate Frog.

Harry eyed the towering display in front of him. A mountain of colour, shining boxes set before him. Each one atop another, piled to the ceiling.  
Perhaps the sweet treat would tempt the slight boy into eating again. Scant amounts of cooling soup sipped from a spoon was hardly going to add pounds to Draco's body.  
But did he even like chocolate? Harry thought sadly, knowing all too well that he knew next to nothing about Draco, other than his tormented dreams, and the untold months of his tortuous incarceration  
Reaching up, Harry selected a perfect box from an ocean of perfect boxes. Bringing it carefully down from the precarious tower, he carefully examined every inch, every corner, for imperfections.  
But what if this particular box contained a picture of Dumbledore within it's folds? The thought almost made him return the Frog to it's original place. His present would instantly become a cruel reminder, wrenching him back to the past. Would Draco think Harry meant to cause him pain? Would he think Harry had done it on purpose? Undoing all they had achieved together.

Was it truly worth the risk for the sake of a piece of chocolate? Over and over and over he turned the box.

 

Hermione watched Harry from the shadows. Not that he would have noticed her concerned gaze anyway, so intent on turning the pointed box around in his hands. Her earlier remark came back to her. Quiet. But it was more than that. He carried with him a secretive sadness that she hadn't noticed before. And an anger that frightened her. She knew that there was something very wrong with her dearest friend.

'He will be okay.' A soft voice close to her ear made Hermione start. She turned to the person now standing beside her.

'Do you think so?'

'He has to be.' Neville smiled sadly. 'What chance do any of us have if Harry falls?'

'I don't think it works that way, Neville.' She gratefully took the tissue offered to her, not previously aware that she stood watching with tears in her eyes. 'He's different. Changed.' Her head tilting, she looked back at Harry, his shoulders locking around whatever thoughts raced through his tangled head.

'Aren't we all different now?'

'No, this is something else.' Hermione shook her head, her knowing eyes not looking away. 'I wasn't there this summer. I stayed home. My...my parents wanted me there, I wanted them. It was difficult. But I did visit the Burrow. It...it was horrible, Neville. I couldn't stay there.' She glanced to the floor, ashamed by her admission. 'It felt so empty without Fred.' Hermione paused, searching for the right words. 'It felt wrong without him.' Swallowing heavily, fighting against the memories. 'But they had a strength together. Determination. None more so than Harry. But now? Now I look at him and I'm not so sure anymore.'

'He is still strong, Hermione.' Something in the tone of Neville's voice made her head turn back around, made her look Neville in the eye.

'You know something, don't you?' Raising her eyebrows in question, her gaze trying to penetrate his mind.

'No. Not really.' 

'Neville...'

'I honestly don't.' He raised his hands in supplication. 'But I've been watching him too.' They continued to look on in silence from the corner of the crowded shop as Harry took his purchases over to the till.

 

'How was Hogsmeade?' Draco asked, moving uncomfortably, wanting to sit up to greet Harry properly.

'Want some help?' Harry set aside Draco's question to answer later. He put the little present he carried on his chair, almost hoping that it had gone unnoticed. Draco nodded at Harry's question, annoyed at his inability to do this most basic of tasks without aid. 'Did you sleep?' He couldn't stop his hand from running over Draco's growing hair.

'A little.' Draco told him quietly. He wouldn't tell him about the nightmare. He held onto to Harry's arms as he was gently pulled upright, propped against the pillows. Holding onto Harry for a fraction of a second longer than usual. Stupidly, he had missed him.

'I can come back later?'

'No, no, I'm fine.' He shook his head, tucking his arm under the blankets. It hurt. Something else he wasn't prepared to burden Harry with. It wasn't fair on the boy who visited.

'Let me see.' Harry said quietly, looking at the arm Draco had hidden from his sight. Foregoing the hard chair, He sat on the bed, holding out his hand expectantly.

'I'm fine.' Draco told him again, managing a watery smile.

'You can't lie, I've said it to you before. You are terrible at it.' Harry spoke. 'I may not know much about you, Draco, but I do know that.'

'I sometimes think that I'll never be able to keep a secret from you.' 

 

Harry kicked off his shoes, swung his legs up onto the bed beside Draco. He didn't ask if this was okay anymore. It was their way now, it was how they slept.  
Draco leaned against him, putting his aching arm on Harry's outstretched legs as Harry slipped his arm around Draco's back and urged him just that little bit closer.

'You never told me about Hogsmeade.'

'It was okay. I...I'd rather be here though.' Harry admitted, looking down at the pale arm resting in his lap.

'When will you see that this is not good for you, Harry.' Draco's head fell upon Harry's waiting shoulder. 'You shouldn't be here with me all the time.'

'And where should I be?' Harry didn't wait for Draco to reply. Tired, emotional, raw. Harry needing this closeness as much as Draco right now. 'You promised me, Draco. You promised that you wouldn't push me away.' His voice harsher than he intended.

'I'm sorry.' Draco spoke carefully.

'No, it's me. I'm being stupid. Forgive me?' His finger played along the length of Draco's forearm. He had yet to touch the Dark Mark. Neither boy prepared for what might happen should Harry's gentle caress stray over the black brand. Draco sighed, tiredness washing over him. His chest ached for the despairing boy beside him. 

'It's not easy is it.' He spoke.

'Nothing worth having ever is.' Harry replied softly.

 

'I brought you something.' Harry finally broke the easy silence the pair had fallen into. He reached over to his chair, his mind finally made up, careful not to jostle Draco too much. Snatching up the box, he placed it upon Draco's knee.

'I've not had one of these in years.' Draco's tired eyes lighing on the box. A smile crept over his lips. 'Not since I was little.'

'I didn't know if you liked chocolate. You don't have to eat it.' A flush stole across Harry's cheeks. 'I just thought...' He slipped back into the safety of silence, watching as Draco picked up the box with the hand that wasn't still in Harry's lap.

'Thank you.' His voice strangly thick, Harry could be forgiven for thinking that Draco was about to cry. 'Would...would you open it for me?'

 

For the briefest flash, Harry wondered how he had gotten through his life this far without ever knowing that sound. And he knew without a doubt that he would spend the rest of his days chasing it.  
Draco. Laughing.

That infectious giggle, like a hundred tiny glass bells, ringing the clear sound into the sad little room, sparking off the hard stone walls, shattering the fear, the terror lodged deeply in Harry's heart. 

Anything, anything at all was worth this smile, this pure joy.  
Even if it was at the expense of his own dignity.

 

'How is this even allowed?' Harry flipped the card over, reading the words printed on the back. 'Don't they have to ask for permission?' Never in a million years would Harry believe that one day he would be the subject of a collector card. And that he had been the one who had given it to Draco.

'Apparently not.' Draco couldn't wipe the grin from his face, tears of laughter still shining in his eyes.

'Honestly, I can't believe it!' Harry was indignant, huffing out his exasperation. 'I'm going to find out who made this and write a strongly worded letter.' Once again turning the card, his own surprised face blinking up at him. 'It's not funny!'

'No, you're right. It's an invasion of privacy.' Draco valiantly tried to school his features. But it was no use, the look of consternation on Harry's face was just too amusing. He dissolved into a peal of giggles once more.

'Draco!' Harry couldn't help but grin.

'S...sorry.' Draco drew his lips in tightly, pressing them between his teeth.

'I have one of Salazar Slytherin somewhere, I'll find it for you, chuck this one in the bin.' Disgusted, he tossed the offending card that bore his likeness onto the pile of books that still rested neatly on Draco's table.

Don't you dare!' Draco was shocked at the very idea, his eyes blown wide.

'You can't possibly want a card with my ugly face on it.'

'I like it.'

Harry turned to look at him, surprised by the sudden softness of his voice where there had been laughter moments ago. There was something within those glittering silver eyes that Harry couldn't name, had never before seen.

'I...I want to keep it.' Draco's eyes dipped, colour bright in his cheeks. 'Please?'

'Anything you want, you can have.' Harry told him quietly. 'Anything at all.'


	19. Chapter 19

Draco had nothing left.

He had seen his home raised to the ground in a savage blast of flame and spite. A tumble of stone and wooden shards. Everything gone, over. Every single treasured moment within those protective walls lost in an instant of hate.

Seen the money fall into Voldemort's own hands, his father willingly parting with coins and gold and anything else worth a damn that he had ever owned. Brainwashed, perhaps, but nevertheless, it was gone. 

He watched Hogwarts burn. People running, trying to save dying students, dying teachers. Everyone dying.

He saw his only hope of salvation gasp his last gasp. Cold, hard, so very dead. The lifeless body looking up at him from yet another cruel vision, from the wet ground, from the gaping bite in his unmoving throat, his lifeblood spilling onto the unforgiving floor.  
Did he know where Draco lay? Did he know that Voldemort was making sure he saw it all in mindless flashes of red, of consuming fire. The images disjointed, out of time. Did he know where Draco curled up on the cold floor, waiting for the endless visits? Would he have carried him away? Risked his life for a tantrum throwing, spoilt child? What use were questions that had never been voiced, it was done, dead and gone and over. It didn't matter now, Snape was dead, they were all dead.  
Draco had nothing left.

 

Not quite nothing.

 

Draco glanced around the empty room, knowing full well that he was alone, and had been for hours now. But that didn't stop the feelings of guilt, like he was wrong to have this secret, like it carried with it shame that couldn't be shared, shouldn't be discovered.

He slipped the thin piece of card out from under his stack of pillows, careful with it, lest it should crease or be damaged by his shivering fingertips.

Harry Potter rapidly blinking up at him from the golden frame, the ever present dark rimmed glasses valiantly trying so hard to hide those shocking green eyes of his. He wondered what it would be like to see Harry without those glasses, to be on the receiving end of that naked green gaze. A dream was all it ever would be.

Things would soon fall back into their rightful place. Harry would return to his usual life, as of course he should. And Draco, well, he reasoned that things would be very different from now. He wouldn't return to Slytherin, Harry had been right about that. He couldn't.  
They would be there, some would have returned. Faces that bore the likeness of their family. Eyes that would remind him of every touch, every smell, every bitter taste. He knew, knew who had been there, visiting his Cell.  
Some were unfamiliar, thankfully. And some were not. He wasn't meant to leave, wasn't expected to live. Masks had been forgotten, faces were remembered. Eyes that climbed into his body and stole his life.  
Slytherin would be waiting, watching. Sly grins, pitying looks, whispers. Some who had listened to the tales told by their parents, by their family. The laughter, the knowing glances. Some who believed he had gotten all he deserved.

Harry had it right. No, he wouldn't be returning to the dungeons.

 

Tears that had no ending in sight, so very close to the precious card. Draco slid it back where he treasured it, safe from the damp that crawled across his cheeks. It wouldn't do to get the picture wet. He had no wand to dry it with, didn't want a wand. Not now, not ever. 

Who was he without magic? A child in the dark. A nobody, a nothing. Being a wizard was all he knew, had been all he ever wanted. Magic, his parents, the Manor. All were his life, and all were gone.  
No, that wasn't strictly true. The magic still coursed through his veins, fighting to be heard over the ceaseless pain, the fear, the uncertainty. He pushed it away, couldn't think about his destiny, his terror. His arm throbbing. Remorseless against the soundless beat of his empty heart.

 

Had it been days or weeks? Draco never thought to count the nights, the days without end. All he knew were these safe four walls. Three people coming to visit. 

Madam Pomfrey always ready with a kind word, or a new potion that may just work this time. They didn't. Draco long resigned to time being his healer. But it didn't stop her from trying. Long years of training had never failed her before. Draco was a painful reminder that she could not fix everything.

Professor McGonagall would bring him books. He still struggled over the words, letters swimming before his tired eyes. So she had also taken up Harry's new hobby. Reading to him. Text books, not stories. But Draco was more than grateful. He didn't want the years spent in copious study to all be in vain. He had to have something, had to have a plan in mind for his future. Had to remember that he only had himself.

And Harry. Of course Harry. Just the name running through his head raised a smile. Harry bloody Potter. Of all the people. He would read to him, dry his tears, touch him when it was all just too much. Sleep beside him, an arm wrapped closely when the nightmares threatened. Chased them into the night, banished them with soft words, with gentle hands and sometimes, only sometimes, a soft, hardly felt, brush of lips against his trembling, tear stained face.

He lived for Harry's visits. For that kind smile that still seemed embarrassed, despite all he had already done for Draco. Washed him, cleaned up his mess, fed him. Seen him in all his shame, in all his stark agony.  
You didn't forget that, Draco knew. At least he never would. Harry Potter was someone now, not that dark haired boy from his early youth. Someone who had appeared to have everything Draco did not. Someone to hate, to envy, to want to be near.

 

He was getting stronger, he could feel it in his bones. That itching in his limbs, the will to move his frail body. But what then? What was to happen once he was upright, standing on his own two feet? Where did he go after that? He couldn't stay here, safe in his tiny little room. Away from prying eyes, curious questions and inquisitive students. How would he find the answers they would surely demand? How could he ever tell anyone what had happened to his unwilling self. The thoughts sickened him.  
They would be out there, behind the heavy door of his room.  
Where would he go?

 

'Are you sure you are ready for this?' Harry was not happy, clear resistance in his eyes. 'Madam Pomfrey said only if you are feeling up to it.' His head cocked, fingers twitching by his thighs, standing over him as Draco sat on the very edge of his bed. 'You already look really pale.'

'I'm always pale.' Draco countered.

'Draco...'

'I need to start getting better, Harry.' He stopped him before Harry could continue. 'As much as I would love to stay in here forever, Madam Pomfrey would never allow me to fester in my hermitage.'

'All right then.' Harry was still apprehensive. Yes, Madam Pomfrey had indeed told the boys that Draco should perhaps try getting out of bed, perhaps try to stand for very short periods. It was a thought that filled Harry with dread. Dread that Draco would push himself too far, that he might cause more damage to his fragile, slowly healing body. 'But on one condition.'

'What's that?'

'You won't push yourself too hard, that you will take your time and not expect too much. That you will let me help you.'

'That is way more than one condition.' He had to smile in the face of Harry's obvious concern, grinning all the more when Harry scowled. 'But yes, okay. I'll agree to it all.' 

'Ready then?' Harry asked, not liking this one bit.

'As I'll ever be.' He answered. And so, against his better judgment, Harry held out his strong, steady hands, ready for Draco to take.

 

Pain. Washing over him, turning his world black. Almost passing out. Sucking in sharp gasps of air through clenched teeth that did little to combat the sudden nausea. He would have fallen if it were not for Harry keeping a tight hold of his sweating hands.

'That's enough.' There was anger in Harry's voice.

'No.' Hardly a whisper, blind with pain, numb with panic. 'Wait.' His bare feet shifting imperceptibly, forcing himself to stay upright, forcing himself not to fall into Harry. His throat full, vicious tears stinging his dimming eyes, his knees threatening to buckle, ready, waiting to collapse.

'Draco, that's enough.' Quickly, painfully, Harry moved closer, his body pressing tightly against his. He wrapped a securing arm firmly around Draco's quivering waist, their bodies flush.

'I have to.' With shaky breath, Draco relinquished all control to Harry, slumping weakly in his arms. 

'You don't have to do anything.' Harry told him softly, easing him back down to the bed. He took his place beside him, didn't even consider giving up his sure hold on Draco's waist. 'You are not ready. Pomfrey said only to try if you can.'

'I have to.' Draco repeated, the pain holding his body in it's deathly grasp, his chest heaving from the effort. He knew if Harry was not there, touching him, he would surely have given into the darkness of oblivion. It hurt. It always hurt. 

'You did it. You stood up.' Harry offering what little comfort he could, his fingers moving in gentle rhythm against his cotton covered back.

'I'm pathetic.' Tears that were always waiting behind his eyes began to fall quietly.

'Don't say that.' There was hot anger in Harry's voice. A fury that couldn't be contained. 'Don't ever say that.'

'Why are you always so nice to me?' Incredulous, Draco could never begin to comprehend all that had passed between them.

'I wish you didn't struggle to believe me, Draco.' This time it was Harry who rested his head against Draco's shoulder, exhausted beyond measure. 'I wouldn't say anything I didn't mean. You know that about me, at least. I get that this is strange, new and scary. But I am your friend. Please believe that. You have to believe that.' His voice was little more than a tired sigh, the fight draining from him.

Time stilled in the tiny room that Draco now called home. The sweet smell of honey on Harry's breath, his face, his mouth, inches from his own. And those eyes, those eyes in his kind, gentle face, a face that had begun to mean the world. How was this possible? How had he been granted this?

'I do believe you.' Draco whispered, his heart thumping out a new drum beat. His words coming slowly, half afraid that he would shatter this moment in two. 'I don't know why you say what you do, I can't understand any of it. But, Merlin help me, I believe you.'


	20. Chapter 20

There wouldn't be a better time than this. It was late evening. Everyone was in the Great Hall. Everyone was eating, laughing, going about their normal life.  
McGonagall holding court over the dining students, Madam Pomfery in her usual chair. Potter at the table where he belonged. The world was as it should be. 

He had gotten himself to the edge of the bed, bare feet dangling to the floor. It was chilly, but not something he would allow to stop him. His mind made up, his courage summoned and his will determined. Harry wouldn't always be there to help. He had to do things alone.

Bracing weak, trembling arms beside him on the bed, Draco pushed against the yielding mattress, his fingers gripping handfulls of blankets in his effort to stand.

 

It was a mistake, one in which he had to see through. The stone cold and hard and always unforgiving under his useless, shuffling feet. It would hurt to fall, he would surely break something. Harry would be here soon, he would find him crying on the floor, his legs twisted under him, blood on his brow. He couldn't let that happen. Harry would be devastated.  
The window might as well be a million miles away.

 

'Draco!' Harry's startled exclamation broke through the thick fog in his head. His voice tinny, coming from some dark, distant place. 'What are you doing?' He couldn't answer. His lips parted but no sound would come. To speak meant to fall. Only tears. Only ever tears. 'What's the matter?' Fear soon replaced that hidden note of anger in Harry's voice. Draco could hear Harry coming closer, could hear his hesitant footsteps. 

'Nothing.' Draco choked, his fingers rigid on the window ledge, his knuckles white with strain. Harry had to go, he couldn't see him like this, not anymore. It was too much to bear.

'You can't move, can you?' Sadness now. A sadness that Draco put there.

'I...I only wanted to see the stars.' A choked whisper, his knees giving way. It was too late. Harry couldn't save him, no one could save him.

'Oh, Draco.' But there he was, warmth pressing against his back, settling the throb in his head. Shaking hands around his waist, gently tugging him ever closer. 'Lean back, I've got you. I won't let you fall.'

 

'There isn't any stars.' Draco remarked softly, the welcome night breeze stirring his hair.

'No.' Harry tightened his careful hold. 'There isn't.' Malfoy, he was holding Malfoy. The fragile body in his arms gently shivering. 'It's been overcast all day. Even the friendly Quidditch match was called off. Too much chance of rain, according to the Hufflepuff team.' He laughed softly. 'After the War, people have gotten soft.'

'Self preservation.' Draco sighed, his body heavy. 'I'd even settle for the rain right now, anything to be out there.'

'You will be.' A soft breath in Draco's ear.

'When?' He asked. 'I'm beginning to think that I will never get better.'

'You can't force it. It's going to take time. A lot of time.' 

'There won't be any stars left by the time I am better.' He spat his growing anger. 'I guess it's what He would have wanted.' Harry stilled him, his hand rubbing gentle circles into his stomach. It was enough to stop Draco in his tracks. 'Sorry.' Draco sighed, his eyes sliding closed. How could he ever say goodbye? 'Ignore me.'

'You do realise that is impossible, don't you?' Harry smiled. 'You could never be ignored, Draco.' A hint of teasing in his voice. 'I gave up trying to do that years ago.'

'I've always been successful at being an annoying little shit. Even my own friends had trouble putting up with me.' His laugh carried no humor. 'A foresight into my future perhaps. It's little wonder that people didn't stick around. I've not been a kind person.'

'We all have things in our past that we cannot look on with pride. Look at what I did to you.' Remembering. 'I almost killed you.' His voice dropping with the shame. 'I can't ever be forgiven for that. I...I think about it every day. You lying there, choking, blood all over the floor. I did that, I hurt you.'

'You didn't know.' Draco soothed. 'There is nothing to forgive.' He allowed his hands to fall to Harry's arms, holding them there.

'You were dying. If Snape hadn't come...' He shook his head, consumed by the terrible memory. 'You were upset, and I nearly killed you.'

'Harry, it's okay.' A thought suddenly occurred to him. 'Is that why you stay with me now?' He asked carefully. 'Do you feel guilty about what happened? Because you don't need to, you know. I...I can do this alone. I forgive you. I was never angry.' He twitched in Harry's arms, wanting, wishing to turn around and face the only person he could stand touching him.

'No! Draco...No.' Harry was aghast at the idea. 'Please, Draco. Sit down, please.' His hands shaking, he slowly got Draco to the bed, sitting him on the edge. Leaving him, stepping away. 'Is that what you think? That I am only here because I want to make myself feel better about what I did to you, about how you almost died at the end of my wand?' He turned away, scrubbing a rough hand over his face. 'I'm not good for you, Draco. I'm no good at looking after you.'

'You are, Harry. Don't...Don't say that. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking. That's not what I think. No.'

'You must.' Harry bit. 'You think I could do that to you, that I pity you and am only trying to make myself feel better. You think I'm going to walk out when you are well, don't you? That I can just forget about all of this, all of what you have been through. Just to give myself redemption. Is that how you see me?' He couldn't look at the boy on the bed. Didn't realise that Draco was crying. 'I guess you would think that.'

'Harry... Don't.' Draco sobbed, the anguish in Harry's words more than he could bear. Useless to stop the tears flooding down his face. 'I...I'm sorry, no. I...I don't t...think that.' How could he take it back? How could he make Harry see? Coughing against the pain, pain that locked itself in his chest. He wanted to vomit, wanted to scream. Wanted to throw himself at Harry. Didn't want to ever let go.

'Merlin, Draco. I'm so sorry.' Harrry turned at the sound of Draco's utter despair. He went to him, dropped heavily to his knees before him. 'I...I don't know how to do this, I don't know how to make things right.' His head falling onto the bed, voice muffled against the covers.

'T...there isn't a right way.' Draco spoke softly, doing his best to swallow back his tears, his hand finding the soft, dark strands of Harry's hair. If only his wasted body would allow him to drag the heartsick boy close, crush him to his chest. 

'It's all so fucking horrible, so difficult, confusing. I...I want to make you better, and I can't. All I do is mess everything up.'

'You haven't. Ssh. You haven't.' Draco soothed, finding himself to be the one now trying to offer the crying Harry comfort. 'It's okay. It's my fault.'

'Nothing about this is your fault.' Harry slowly raised his head. 'It's me. I...I don't even know what I am doing anymore, Draco. I...I'm scared. I'm scared all the time.'

'It's all right, Harry. I'm sorry.' His hands moving slower than he wished, everything about him moved slower now. But there he was, feet on the floor, drawing Harry's head to his stomach, wrapping trembling arms around him, burying his fingers into that soft hair.

'Draco, no. You should be in bed. You'll catch cold.' Harry's voice resisted, but his body didn't. Sinking willingly into the comforting embrace, his own arms rising, holding on to the fragile boy before him.

'You won't let me.' Draco answered.

 

They lay facing each other, the charmed hot water bottle pressed between their bodies. Harry's fear that Draco would indeed catch a chill had driven him from his knees, had helped Draco back into bed, and had seen him once again under the blankets of the little bed.

It wasn't done, Harry always slept above the covers, always with his back against the headboard, awkward, but sleeping none the less. But not now, not tonight.

His hand wandering aimlessly up and down Draco's back, tracing patterns that made no sence, so very carefully against the scars. Legs tangled together. As close as could be.

'I keep fucking it up, don't I?' Harry had to say, had to know.

'No.' A soft shake of his head. 'You have no idea what you give me.' Draco's lips curving into a sad, knowing smile. 'They took all of me. Everything. My parents, my mind, my body. They left me with nothing. I was nothing.' He shivered despite the warmth. 'In...in that place I knew my life was over. But then Hagrid found me. I...I didn't want him too, I wanted to die. They took it all.'

'Draco...'

'You gave it back to me, Harry.' His eyes open, desperate for Harry to see, to realise. 'You gave me back what they ripped from me in that place. You gave me back my dignity.' His hand groped for Harry's under the blankets, gripped it as tightly as he could. 'You think you can't do this, that you are not helping. But you are. You have to see that, you have to know. I...I thought I could be alone, I thought I was strong.'

'You are.'

'Not without you.' His voice hardly heard.


	21. Chapter 21

September bled into October, the nights grew darker. Draco's progress was slow, painful. 

His feet shuffling across the tiny floor of his room.   
Round and around and around they would go, Harry's arm tight around his waist, holding him upright when his legs were not able to. Night after night, exhausted and spent, dropping to the bed with a fear that he would never really walk again. A limp caused by a shattering of his hips, a flick of a wand, a booted foot. 

The scars that littered his aching body would not pale, each and every one as pink as the day Madam Pomfrey had applied her burning tincture.  
Each day a trial of new potions that would achive nothing other than pain, stinging skin and even once, bleeding. 

His arm a constant ache, a tightening of the muscle, a fire within. He wanted to take cold steal to it, wanted to blur the darkness with stripes of blood, parted flesh and ragged skin. Wanted to cut it out, cut it all away.

It moved. He could feel it slithering under his skin, when the dreams came, when he was alone. It spoke to him, in his head. Whispering black words, promises of pain, humiliation, words of rape, of curses. Draco understood that there was to be no escape from the ownership lodged deep within his body.

 

He knew she was coming, had been waiting for the knock, but the slight tap at the door still sent his heart racing, his palms clammy. Why couldn't he just be left alone? What harm would it do?

'Draco?' Madam Pomfrey called through the door, cracking it open slightly. A thin slice of light spilling through the gap and settling on the floor. 'Are you awake?'

'Yes.' He answered, trying to keep his voice from wavering. 'You can come in.'

 

He watched as Madam Pomfrey pushed aside his stack of books, making room on the small table for the dark wooden bowl she carried. He tried not to look, tried so hard not to focus on the thin plume of red smoke that spiralled into the air, curling round the curtains and drifting up towards the ceiling. It was sharp, pungent in an unpleasant way. Eucalyptus, and something stronger, earthy. Dark.

They had talked about this. Something that she wanted to try, one last thing, something that might help. He knew it wouldn't. But she was good to him, he owed her that much.

'Are you sure you don't want Harry in here for this?' She turned to him, apprehension in her worn features. She was showing her age, Draco realised. Her grey hair twisted up into a messy bun, held off her lined face with a tight black band. The years were passing for them all.

He shook his head quickly, not giving himself the chance to change his mind. Of course he wanted Harry, he always wanted Harry. But for his own sanity he had to pretend that Harry Potter was not his world.

'It won't take a moment to fetch him, Draco. I'm sure he would want to be here.' 

'No.' His voice clipped, biting back a harsh retort. The wait was agonising. 'Just... No, I don't want Harry here. Just do it.'

 

She helped him off with the pyjama top, buttons too small for Draco to manage alone. Peeling it from his shivery skin, Pomfrey suppressed a shudder at the scars that covered his body. They were healing, but...

'Lie back for me, sweetheart.' She was standing by the bed, leaning over him, her hands reaching towards him. His mind beginning to stray as she bent forwards.   
Harry, please... No. He could do this. Blinking in the severe light Madam Pomfrey needed to see by, blinking away that ever present need for the Boy Who Lived.   
'You must tell me if this hurts you, Draco.' She eased elastic down his hips, exposing more of the livid pink scars. They were down his legs, between his thighs, covering his back. Hidden from her sight, but there would be no getting them out of her head. This teenager laid before her, covered in those desperate marks of evil.

 

His fingers curled in, broken nails digging scarlet crescents into his palms. The potion too warm to be comfortable against his naked skin. It tingled, burned. The smell creeping across his nose. He squeezed his eyes tightly closed, his head sinking deep into the pillows, teeth gritted against the rising pain.

'How are you doing, Draco?' Her voice holding back the emotion, her weathered fingers dabbing the heated liquid against yet another scar.

'I...I've h...had worse.' He stuttered, sucking in a breath when her hand returned to his stomach, the weakened muscle quivering under her fingers. He wanted to scream at her, wanted to bat her terrible hands away, dash the stinking, useless potion across the walls. It wouldn't work, why should this one be any different to the rest? How could she not see that?

 

Countless minutes passed, her fingers retuning again and again to the bowl, returning to his stomach. She worked in silence, her eyes watching, hopeful for some sign of the potion working its magic. Draco lay still, his face turned from her, hands twitching, stomach aching.

'Draco, it's...it's not doing anything. I thought...' Her words wrenched his heart. He heard the bowl being set aside. Yet another round of pain and hopelessness for nothing. She ran her finger over a particularly deep cut, the knive carving an unrecognisable symbol, it's edges rough, the skin pulled roughly together in its ragged attempt at healing. 'I thought this one might work.' 

'Nothing will.' He heaved a sigh, keeping still under her careful, painful touch. He wouldn't tell her how it burned, she was sad enough. 

'There is nothing more that can be done, Draco. They...they may fade, but you will always have them.'  
She was crying, he couldn't bear to see. She was meant to be strong, she was meant to be the one with all the answers, the school nurse who could fix everything. Yet here she was, tears running down her face, his body battered beyond his own recall.

His own eyes dry, turning away from her.  
He wanted his Mother. He wanted Harry.

 

An age passed before she spoke again.   
'Have you touched it?' Her eyes dropping to the terrible Mark burned into his forearm. 

'No.' He couldn't stop his eyes from falling to the blackness. 'I never have.'

'Has Harry?' Was her next question.

'No!' The thought filled him with sickness. I'd never... No. He's...he's not touching it. It's evil. I'd not let him touch something so foul.' 

'Don't be ashamed, Draco.'

'I never asked for it.' He told her softly. 'It was expected, by everyone. So...so that's what happened. I think I knew, even then what He really wanted from me. Not...not killing Dumbledore just made it easier.' Draco couldn't look at her, he felt the growing shame. 'I...I don't think even Father wanted me to have it. But... There was no excuse. To refuse was to die. But they all died anyway.' His voice dropped, Madam Pomfrey had to strain to hear his last words. 'I...I killed them.'

'It was not your fault, Draco. You did what was right.'

'I killed my parents.'

'Voldemort killed your parents.' She patted at the tears on his cheeks. 'Do not think otherwise. You could not have changed any of it, Draco. Your Father and Mother were always at the mercy of the Dark Lord. They would always die by his hand. It was only luck that kept you alive.'

'It wasn't luck. I w...was his plaything. He didn't want me dead, he wanted to consume me, own me. I was his toy.' A sob tore its way from his throat. 'I...I still am.'

'Your scars do not make you less of a man, Draco, and neither does what happened to you.' She helped him sit up, helped him into a clean top, finally, thankfully, covering his body. 'You have been touched by evil, and you have survived.'

'It doesn't feel like it.' Draco replied, he couldn't help the anger. How could she ever truly understand? She wasn't the one covered in memories. She didn't have to look into a mirror and see the darkness looking back.   
He hadn't survived, he had been condemned to live.

 

He was quiet when Harry came.

'Sorry I'm so late. Everyone was staying up tonight. It's Saturday tomorrow, so it was hard to slip away.' Harry didn't fail to notice the red of Draco's eyes. There was a smell in the air. Madam Pomfrey and her limitless potions, no doubt. It wasn't a surprise that Draco had been crying.

'You didn't have to come tonight.' Draco spoke. Perhaps it would be for the best if he left? He was hardly going to be good company. 'You should go back.'

'Draco, what's wrong?' Harry asked him slowly. 'Did Madam Pomfrey hurt you?'

'No. Nothing's wrong.' He shrugged. 'Just, don't be kind, not tonight. I...I couldn't bear it. Please, just go.'

'Okay.' One word and Harry was turning back towards the door. 

He watched in silent sadness as Harry snatched up the dressing gown that hung from the back of the door. He had listened to him, he was going. He was even taking back his gown. Draco's stomach ached, his eyes prickled. Harry needed to go, now, before the world came crashing down around him and he was once again reduced to a sobbing child. He closed his eyes against the sight of Harry leaving him.

Forever, the scars were his forever. 

'Come on then.' Harry's voice made him start. He had been expecting the sound of the door closing.

'What?' Confusion twisted his face into a frown as he opened his eyes. Harry was standing beside the bed, the dressing gown held open in his hands. 

'Do you honestly believe that I would leave you?' Harry cocked his head. 'You may not want to tell me what's wrong, but that doesn't mean I'm going to just walk out. I don't have to know everything, Draco. You are allowed your secrets.' He smiled softly. 'There is something I want to show you. Are you up to walking?'

 

'I...I don't want anyone to see me, not yet.' Draco told him, panic already stopping his voice. The thought of bumping into a teacher, or a student... His blood ran cold through his veins. He couldn't stand that.

'No one will see you, Draco.' Harry dropped the dressing gown around Draco's shoulders. Pulling something from his back pocket, he proceeded to open an old piece of heavily creased parchment. 'Look.' He set it down on Draco's legs.

Tiny writing, so small that he had to screw his eyes up, anything to focus on the swimming letters. Peering closer, his eyes finally widening when he realised what it was that sat in his lap.   
'Merlin!' He exclaimed, shocked at what he was seeing. 'It's...it's everyone!'

'Yes. It's a map.' Harry grinned. 'You can see where every single person is all the time. And there,' he pointed to the corridor outside of Draco's room. 'Empty.'

'Wherever did you get such a thing?' His finger following the minuscule script that spelled out Argus Filch, making his rounds across the uppermost floor.

'Fred, George.' Harry told him, sadness in his words. It wasn't often he spoke Fred's name out loud. 'They gave it to me.' He swallowed heavily, not wanting to burden Draco with his own upset. 'I thought it might be useful tonight.'

 

The door to the outside stood before them.   
Draco couldn't move. His unsteady gait had brought them this far, Harry's sure hold keeping him upright when he would have fallen. 

'I...Harry, I...' He eyed the door. The world beyond his sight. 'I don't...' He shook his head, burying his face into Harry's shoulder. 'It's been so long. The last time... It...it was the Forbidden Forest.' It was out there, beyond that door. Waiting, watching.

He thought he had wanted this, the outside, the cleansing air, the great wide world. But now when he had it before him all he wanted was his little room.

'I'll take you back.' Harry told him, squeezing his waist. 'It was stupid of me.'

'No. No, it's not.' Draco took a shaky breath. 'I need to be normal, Harry. I just don't remember how.'

'Come on, let's go back. I'll go fetch us something from the kitchens, are you hungry?' Harry ready to turn his body from the closed door, Draco tighter than possible against his side. Trembling. He was wrong to bring him here. They should have stayed where they were safe. The little bubble of warmth that was Draco's room. Books waiting for them, candles and covers and sleep.

'I...I want to try, Harry. Please.' Draco lifted his head, looking to the innocuous little door. 'Just... Promise you'll stay with me?'


	22. Chapter 22

All it needed was a single footstep. That arm around him, always around him, was lending him a strength he didn't have alone. Just one tiny step and he could pretend to be normal, could pretend that everything was fine. It wasn't, and never would be, but just for a moment.

 

The stone floor changed to grass under his feet. Soft underfoot and damp, the night-time dew already soaking into the slippers he wore. Harry's slippers. Everything that touched him belonged to Harry. He couldn't bear the thought of anything else.  
His eyes screwed up against that all pervading darkness. Outside, his mind chanted. Outside. Not there, never there again.

'Open your eyes, Draco. You don't need to be scared. I'm not going anywhere without you.' Harry's voice so very close, his breath warm against his skin. 'You need to look.'

 

His eyes flickered, Draco forcing them to part, to finally look into the darkness.

The night sky shimmered before him, bright and sparkling and so very beautiful. Eash star placed in that ebony velvet blanket by a divine hand, perfect, infinite.

'It's not cloudy tonight.' Harry whispered, his fingers tightening on Draco's waist. 'I thought you might like to see.'

Draco's breath caught, he wanted to cry at the sight before him. It had been so long, so many months in the cold darkness that he had truly forgotten what it was like to look upon the night sky in all it's crystalline glory.

'I can't stand this.' Harry murmured so softly that Draco didn't hear him, could only feel him pulling away, coming around to face him. 'I...I need to see you, properly.' Harry's fingers fluttered at his throat, undoing the ties that he had only just pulled together.

'Harry?'

'Sorry.' Harry whispered again, allowing the gown to fall into his hands. 'That's better.' Smiling, he gathered the fabric up, tucked it under his arm. 

'What?' Confusion had Draco turn from the sky and look upon Harry's blushing face.

'Come on, there is something else I want to show you.' Without pause, Harry picked up Draco's hand, leading him slowly away from the open door.

 

'You did all this?' Draco asked when they rounded the corner.

'It's nothing much.' Harry shrugged away Draco's question.

Nothing much. The words reverberated around Draco's head. 

Two chairs sat pushed closely together, one heavy with soft covers, piled high with cushions. The other void of any comfort, the bare slatted wood clearly waiting for Harry.  
Lights twinkled against the stone walls of the castle, candles burned across the damp grass, it was a haven of peace and comfort.  
Hours of lonely work had gone into this. Draco couldn't feel that telltale of static that he now felt around magic. There was no fear, there was no danger of screaming panic. Harry had placed each and every light, each candle, each blanket, by hand.

'Oh, Harry.' Draco sighed, leaning against him, overcome. 

'You need to be sitting down.' Harry told him firmly. 'You have been on your feet for far too long, you look about ready to collapse.'

 

Harry eased Draco's tired body into the chair ready for him. Covering his legs with blankets, dropping one around his shoulders, leaning him back against the cushions.

'Are you going to be warm enough?' Was his question, worry creasing his forehead, his eyes crinkled in concern. 'Perhaps we have been out here too long already? I should take you back. It's warm in your room, you cannot afford to catch a chill. I should have brought your bottle, and a hot drink.'

'Harry. Do shut up!' Draco laughed openly. 'Shut up and sit down, for goodness sake.'

Harry couldn't help but grin, dropping to the chair by Draco's side, already reaching over the tiny gap, ready for the hand that lay in wait.

 

'I'm sorry I was grumpy with you.' Draco broke the silence, his voice loud in the still night.

'You weren't.' Harry shook his head, his fingers tightening. 'And even if you had been, you have more right than most to be angry sometimes, all the time in fact.'

'Madam Pomfrey did hurt me. I should have been honest with you earlier.' Draco spoke, his gaze on the sky, if he was to look into those eyes his resolve would crumble. He heard Harry's sucked in breath, ready to vent his anger. 'She didn't mean to, and I didn't tell her to stop.'

'Draco...'

'She has nothing left to try, Harry. She's finished.' Draco forced the words out before Harry got the chance to continue. The stars began to blur with tears. 'I have them forever. The scars. They won't go. I...I don't think they will fade. She...she said they might, but I know. I feel it, deep down. This is the way of it for me.' His rattling sigh shook his body, the cold creeping into his limbs despite all of Harry's care. 

He closed his eyes, a monster such as him didn't deserve the stars.

 

'It is going to be okay.' Harry's voice, gentle with understanding.

'It's not. You can tell me that forever, but you can't make it true, Harry. Look at me, look at what I have become.'

'You are Draco Malfoy. You will always be Draco Malfoy. Nothing Voldemort or any of those bastards that did you wrong will ever be able to change that. Your mother and father loved you very much, they would be so proud to see you now, knowing that you are a fighter, knowing that you made it.'

'I miss them so much.' Draco whispered. 'But I would not want them to see the mess He has made of me.' Harry felt his eyes prickle with tears, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on Draco's thin wrist. 'Mother was very proud of her looks, so was Father. They took care of the way they dressed, of their bodies. It was important to them, and I guess they instilled that into me also. But now, now they would be horrified.'

'No, Draco. They wouldn't. No one would think that way.'

'I knew Madam Pomfrey wouldn't be able to help. I understood that from the start, but to actually have her tell me that nothing more could be done, it was harder to hear than I expected. It felt like an ending, you know?'

'And ending to what?'

'To the life I was meant to have. An ending to all of the things my parents wished for me to achieve. A good job, a person to love, a life lived with happiness, without fear. They wanted so much for me. I was the only child they could have. Mother wanted more, but it wasn't to be. So all of their focus and hopes went into me. Father was strict, but not cruel. He wanted me to be the best, at school, at everything. Mother, she spoiled me.' Draco smiled softly at the memory. 'I was a brat, but I...I thought I could have it all.'

'And you can still have all of that, Draco. You can have a good job, a partner to love you. It doesn't change anything.'

'I can't be touched.' Draco shook his head. 'You know that better than anyone.'

'In time you can.'

'No.' Draco was absolute. 'To have someone see me, to have their hands on me, on my scars, it's more than I could bear.'

'You let me.' Harry whispered. 'You let me touch you. You let me look at you.'

Draco turned to him, watching as a flush rose around his throat. Yes. It was true. He did allow Harry all of those things. He wanted Harry beside him, stroking him, murmuring nonsense, taking away all the pain and fear that had grown in those last terrible months.  
He couldn't dream to have that with anyone else, because there would never be anyone else.

Despite all that he fought against it, Harry had become his world, it was useless to pretend otherwise.


	23. Chapter 23

The night grew late, the stars moved across the sky, and still Harry and Draco sat. Lost in the world of Harry's making.

'Do you think anyone would notice if we stayed out here forever?' Draco asked quietly. 'After all, I've already disappeared, that just leaves a suitable explanation for you.'

'I'd think of something.' Harry smiled, turning to Draco, watching him as his gaze never left the slowly crawling stars. He looked contented, and surprisingly enough, happy. He would stay here, would do anything to keep that look on Draco's face. 'We could, you know.' Harry added after a heartbeat.

'Stay out here? Someone would come looking for you sooner or later. From what I recall, you tend to be rather popular!'

'All right, perhaps not right here.' Harry grinned. 'But... Somewhere.'

'Run away, you mean?'

'Is it running when you are old enough to decide what's right?' Harry couldn't contain his sigh. 'I'm sick of it all, Draco. All this saviour bullshit. I see them looking at me in the halls, all the new students, even the old ones stare at me.'

'You are the saviour, Harry.' Draco said softly. 'You cannot change that, and neither should you.'

'They look at me like I have done something incredible, like they are proud to be walking in the same space as me, breathing the same air. I'm still just me. A scruffy kid who grew up in a cupboard. I'm still just a student, same as them.'

'But you are not the same as them, and you never will be. You alone brought peace to our world, only you could do that. You will never be just a student, just that scruffy child, not anymore. Bloody Hell, Harry, you are a Chocolate Frog Card!' Draco couldn't help the little burst of laughter.

'Don't remind me!'

'You are incredible.' Draco whispered to him, afraid that Harry would be able to pick up all the tiny inflections in his words. Would he one day be able to see? To truly know all the secrets of his heart? His voice shaking, his words catching. 'And the fact that you don't realise it, don't understand it, only makes you more so.'

Harry didn't speak, couldn't find any words. His hand turning in Draco's loose hold, lacing their fingers together.

 

The walk back to Draco's room was taken with a heavy heart. Draco didn't want to leave the beautiful place that Harry had so thoughtfully made. Just for him, for them.  
It would be gone by morning. Harry had to make sure of it. People would see, they would ask questions as to why there was a little space in the grounds that held all Draco needed. The thought of this tangible link to the outside world vanishing from sight, to only become a memory, was more than his fragile soul was ready for.  
He hadn't been lying, he had wanted to stay there. Forever.

But his body had betrayed him. The shivering cold had got Harry to his feet. Had got him to hold out his hands, making Draco reply in kind, his own hands rising, waiting for Harry to help him to his tentative legs.  
The robe was once again tied at his throat. Harry's warm fingers safe and gentle against his skin. Just brushing the place where hands had once wrapped themselves around him, squeezing tightly. But this, he could get used to a touch like this.

 

They got so far before Draco's feet refused to cooperate, he stumbled, tripped over the step into the castle. Harry caught his fall, the door clattering loudly against the stone walls, sending dust motes and tiny shards of stone tumbling to the floor.

'You okay?' Harry asked, stopping them both in their unsteady journey.

'I'm tired, that's all.' He managed a smile for Harry, turning to him.

'Bed.' Harry whispered to him, the implication heavy in the air.

'Yes.' Draco whispered back, his body already unconsciously leaning closer. 'Thank you, for tonight.' Ever close, his hand lifting, touching that face before him. 'It was perfect. Would...would you take me out there again? One night.'

'Of course.' Harry's shy smile lit his face. 'I'd like that.' His hands found the small of Draco's back, pulling him ever closer. 'You feel cold.' Harry told him. 'I don't like it when you are cold, it worries me. Can...can I stay with you?'

'You don't ever have to ask me that.' His eyes closing, his fingers finding those lips that smiled beneath his questioning fingers. 'I...Harry, I...'

'Who's there?' A voice came out of the darkness, instantly stopping whatever Draco was about to say. 'I said, who's there?' The voice boomed, growing ever closer to where they stood.

'It's Filch.' Harry spoke, taking in Draco's wide, terrified expression. 

No, no, no, no. This wasn't meant to happen, Draco was meant to be kept safe.

'Harry...' Draco got out, his voice high and stricken. 'I...I can't...' He couldn't move, frozen with fear.

'It's okay.' Harry's hands tugging at him. 'Come on, sit over there.' He got him to an alcove, a stone seat. 'Stay there, don't move, don't say anything.' He drew the hood of the gown up, covering Draco's head.

'He'll see me!' He couldn't let go of Harry's hand. 'Please!'

'He won't see you.' It pained him, but Harry had no choice. He wrenched his hand from Draco's clinging grip. 'You have to trust me, Draco. I won't let anything happen to you, I swear it. Trust me. You'll be safe here.' Harry was already turning away, leaving him to sit alone. Ready to meet Filch head on.

 

Draco shook, he could hear the caretaker coming closer to where he sat, to where Harry stood before him. This was madness. Soon the whole school would know that he was back, back and damaged and beaten. However well meaning Harry had been in throwing his dressing gown over him, Filch was certainly no fool, he would see him. And that's when Draco looked down at himself.  
And saw nothing.

 

Draco couldn't fight it. He was going to suffocate. Panic set in. He could hear Harry talking amiably to Filch, could even see him. Only a matter of steps away. But still too far.  
He wasn't real, none of this was real. His body was gone, his mind soon to follow.

 

'I should have guessed that it would be you, Potter.' Filch sighed wearily. 'Who else would be wandering the halls at this late hour.'

'Sorry.' Harry shrugged. 'Force of habit.'

'You shoudn't get special treatment, Potter, despite what you have achieved. But... Be on your way and I won't inform a teacher.'

'Thanks!' Harry grinned.

'Go on, off with you.' He dismissed Harry with a wave, waiting to watch him depart down the corridor.

'I've left my book outside.' Harry had to think fast, had to get rid of Filch and that blasted cat of his.

'Reading in the dark?' Filch queried, his interest piqued.

'Eh, yeah. I...I had my wand.' Harry plucked it from his back pocket. 'See, Lumos.' The wand tip lit up. 'I wanted the peace.' He whirled his wand around, lighting up the dark corners of the empty corridor as if to prove his reasoning. 'There is always someone about.'

'Well,' Filch looked like he was considering Harry's tall tale. 'Go fetch it then, and straight back to your House.' With a put upon sigh, Filch turned away from him, back to his night-time patrols, the ever suspicious Mrs Norris close to his heels.

 

Harry sighed his relief, venturing around the corner to make sure that Filch was indeed heading in the opposite direction. Several minutes ticked by before he was truly satisfied that he and Draco were once again alone. He headed back to where he had left him, safe under his fathers Invisibility Cloak.

'Draco, I'm so sorry.' Harry dropped to his knees where he had left the blond boy, tugging on the hem of the robe. 'Are you okay?' He asked before that familiar face came into view.

 

Draco was far from being okay. His chest heaving, his eyes blown wide with fright. 

'Harry...' He gasped, his hands reaching out to touch the solid chest of the body in front of him, to ground him, to make him realise that he was real, that Harry was real.

'Shit, Draco. I'm so fucking sorry.' Harry grasped him, pulled him close. The cloak thrown to the floor where it lay in the dust, forgotten for the moment in the face of Draco's distress. 'I didn't think about what I was doing to you.' Harry told him, his hand clamped on the back of Draco's neck, pressing him to his chest. Draco's hands cluching his jumper, wanting to feel the warm skin beneath the thick wool. He couldn't get close enough.  
'We have to move.' Harry told him, getting Draco to his feet. 'Filch will be back. Come on, it's okay, I'll explain it to you.'

 

'It feels like silk.' Draco sat with the cloak pooled in his lap, fingers reverently stroking the precious fabric. 'I can feel the magic in it. But it feels soft, like...' He stopped himself, a blush staining his cheeks.

'Like?' Harry pressed, his natural curiosity aroused.

'I...I didn't feel it before. When you put it on me, because...because you were near. I though the magic was in you.'

'You can feel my magic?' Harry was astounded.

'Yeah.'

'Do I frighten you?' Harry had to ask.

'No.' Draco was quick to allay Harry's fears. 'Not once. I can't explain it, Harry. I don't understand it. But this,' he dipped his eyes to the cloak, his hand buried within it's folds. 'It's so warm. It feels like you.'

'It belonged to my father.' Harry told him softly. 'It is all I have of him. Apart from some pictures. I...I thought you might like to hang onto it for a while?'

'Harry...' Draco felt the lump grow in his throat. 'You...you would trust me with your fathers cloak?'

'You could use it, you know, to go out. If...if you wanted.' Harry tried to not let Draco's incredulity get to him, but the instant watering of those silver eyes that turned to him had his chest tightening. 'Only if you wanted to.'

'I...I couldn't.' Draco shook his head.

'No, you're right, it's too soon, forget I even mentioned it.'

'No, Harry. I cannot take this from you, for however short a time.' He pushed the material towards him. 'It's yours. It's...it's something that deserves to be treasured.'

'And it is.' Harry smiled softly, touching his fathers cloak. 'Please, Draco. There is no one I would trust it with more than you.'

 

Seamus came bounding up to the table, something clearly sitting in his chest that was bursting to be set free.

'Guess what?' He exclaimed breathlessly.

'Are we going to have to indulge you in this charade, or are you going to spit it out and end the anticipation?' Hermione spoke before anyone else jumped in, her eyes already rolling at the drama Seamus was insisting upon.

'I have gossip!' Seamus declared, both of his hands slamming noisily onto the table, making cutlery dance. 'And even you will be interested in this, Hermione.'

'I very much doubt that. But for the benefit of House unity, I shall allow it. Go on then, Seamus. Please decorate us with your knowledge.'

 

Harry was only vaguely aware of the exchanges flying back and forth over the table. More inane gossip Likely it would be who was caught snogging who on the Astronomy Tower, or what couple had split up now. He didn't even try and appear interested. His gaze on the far wall, the fork in his hand idly playing with the remains of his dinner. 

He was hoping to slip away to Draco earlier tonight. He figured that it wouldn't pose too much of a problem. What with it being a yet another busy weekday full of homework and extra classes, his fellow students would likely be asleep in moments, allowing him to quietly exit out of the portrait hole and along the corridors to Draco's little bedroom.  
He had come across upon a book in the Library that might be of interest to Draco. A novel by a Muggle author that he had liked, that he and Draco had yet to read together. 

His lips still burned where Draco had touched them the night before. His fingertips had barely grazed the pink skin, the slight blush warming his pale cheeks as he had leaned closer. If Filch hadn't called out, if he had stayed away from that, from them...

Harry shook his head, it would not do to dream. Not here, not now, not ever.

 

'So,' Seamus sat down beside Ron, expecting every pair of eyes to turn in his direction. He was not disapointed. 'Justin was talking to Dean, who of course told Ginny, who then spoke to Pavati, who caught Terry, who then told me...'

'Is there a point to this story, Finnigan?' Even Ron had started to glaze over.

'I'm getting to it!' Seamus allowed a grin to split his face. 'Anyway, Justin was looking for Madam Pomfrey. He had come off his broom, thought he might have broken a finger...'

'Seamus, for goodness sake!' Even the mild mannered Neville couldn't help his voice rising in pitch.

'He overheard her talking to McGonagall. Whispering, apparently.' Seamus' eyes lighting up, ready to impart his vital piece of golden gossip. 'Turns out our favourite missing Slytherin has returned to Hogwarts.'

 

Harry heard the words, caught the excitement in Seamus' voice, the eager eyes that were all all turned in the Irish boy's direction. Slytherin. Missing. The bottom of his carefully constructed little world fell away. Leaving a great, gaping hole where all his secrets, all his dreams spiraled into. The heavy stone of his heart thrummed horribly, churned his stomach, turned the blood in his veins to ice.

He waited, waited an eternity for Seamus to say those four little words that would change everything.

 

'Draco Malfoy is back.'


	24. Chapter 24

'Draco Malfoy is back.'

 

Harry wanted to do nothing more than put his head in his hands and weep. How had to come to this? The name Malfoy whispered back and forth around the Great Hall, the voices growing, the interest rising. Seamus looking mightily pleased with himself for delivering this earth shattering piece of scandalous gossip. His grin couldn't be contained, and nor did he wish it to be. Questions were thrown at the smiling boy, all of which he answered with a shrug, or a statement that he know nothing more.

Harry didn't blame him, not one bit. If it had been months ago, he would be revelling in the same gossip, wanting to know everything about the boy from Slythrin who they all presumed had vanished in cowardice with his fated parents, or even dead. It had no real consequence for any of them.  
Draco Malfoy, just another name on the list of the dead and missing.

But not now. Now he was a friend with terrible injuries, horrific memories and an uncertain future. Alone, scared.

How was anyone to know that Draco would be sitting up in his tiny bed, blankets over his shivering legs, with a hot water bottle that was undoubtedly cold by now. Holding it tightly in case some warmth happened to slip into his chilled fingers.  
He would wait for an eternity to Harry to return to him.

And here Harry sat, at the table with his evening meal cooling in front of him, terrified to move, to even open his mouth for fear that he would do untold damage. Fear that he would climb up onto the table amidst the plates and glasses and detritus, draw his wand and hex them all into next week for even daring to mentioning Draco's name.

Why did it have to be this way? Draco's name, no, not even that. Malfoy, they used Mafoy. That name being spread around the Great Hall. Soon there wouldn't be a person under the castle roof that remained unaware that Draco was indeed back.  
He had thought Draco was going to die in his arms, why could they not see?

 

Harry got up from the table, his legs wanting to give way beneath him, the heat of his anger coursing through his body. He had to get out of there, had to go to Draco. Realising that he was the only person who he could stand to be near after all the ceaseless chatter.

He slipped away unnoticed, all attention was on Seamus, heads from other tables turning to the commotion at the Gryffindor table. Slytherin heads.

 

He had to stop, just for a moment. Just to get his thoughts in some semblance of order before he went to Draco. Head pressed against the cool stone, the hallway mercifully dim after the aching light in the Hall. His hands trembled with rage. It wouldn't do to go to Draco in this state. He had to be calm, had to be strong. Had to tell Draco the devastating news.

 

'I've finally figured it out.' The voice coming from a dark recess made Harry jump, 

'Must you always do that to me, Neville?' Instantly recognising that voice, he turned to face the boy standing behind him, his stomach plummeting. It was clear just from the way he was standing that Neville was not happy.

'You've been with him, haven't you. Malfoy.' Neville stated, his tone unplaceable.

'Don't be rediculous.' Harry coughed. 'What would I be doing with Malfoy?' It hurt to say Draco's name in this way.

'I've been watching you for weeks. You never sleep in your own bed anymore. You leave when you think everyone is asleep. 'Well, not everyone has been asleep, Harry. It all makes sense now. You've been going to him. You've been seeing Malfoy.' Neville leaned against the wall, his arms folded across his chest, clearly not intending to be fobbed off by Harry's lies. His eyes shadowed in the gloom.

'Stalking me now?' Harry felt his anger rise, felt his hands clench. Not Neville, why did it have to be Neville?

'You don't need a stalker, Harry. You need someone to knock some sense into you, because it's obvious that I'm right.'

'It's got nothing to do with you. Or anyone else for that matter.' 

'So I am right then.' Neville snorted, the distaste clear. 'You have been with Malfoy.'

'It's...it's not what you think.'

'Tell me what to think then, Harry. Because from here it appears to be exactly what I am thinking. Sneeking out in the middle of the night to spend it in his bed.'

'It's not like that, Neville. Don't turn it into something sordid. You don't understand what's been happening with Draco.'

'Draco?' Neville's eyebrows arched. 'It's Draco now is it?'

'Please, just trust me when I say that I need to be with him.' He wanted to cry. It was all too much.

'Make me understand it, Harry. Give me a reason why you are creeping out at night to be with the bastard who made your life, all of our lives Hell for so bloody long.'

'You are being dramatic.'

'Am I?' Neville spat. 'His aunt destroyed my parents. His family is diseased, Harry.'

'Neville...' Harry's voice little more than a warning. He was not to be crossed when it came to Draco. Not now, not ever.

'Where was he in the War, Harry, tell me that?'

'Don't.' He grit his teeth together hard, his jaw protesting under the pressure. He didn't trust himself not to draw his wand against his friend.

'Don't you remember Fred dying?' Neville spoke calmly, a contained anger bubbling behind his eyes.

'Why are you even saying that?'

'My parents lost their minds because of Malfoy's twisted family, Ron lost his brother, Colin died...'

'Draco didn't kill anyone.'

'And you know that for sure, do you, Harry?' Neville asked, wanting a reason behind Harry's stupid behaviour.

'Yes.' His hands turning to fists.

'I didn't see him fighting for the Light, did you? For all you know, for all any of us know, he was out there,' He lifted his hand, waving in the direction of the door. 'Fighting for Him. For Voldemort.'

'He wasn't.'

'Told you that did he?' Neville sighed, exasperated. 'If you believe that, then you are a fool, Harry. Can't you see that Malfoy is nothing but a liar, a treacherous snake!' His voice rose, wanting, needing Harry to realise, unless it was simpler than that, baser. 'Are you fucking him?' That last, shocking word coming from his dear friend was Harry's undoing. He couldn't hold his anger in any longer.

'Don't you ever, ever say that word again. Not about him. Not ever.' His voice low, dangerous. 'You want to know where he was? Do you really want to do this?' Harry pushing his face close, fury flashing in his emerald eyes. A darkness consuming him. 'He was bleeding on the floor of a filthy dungeon after being tortured and gang raped and left for dead by Voldemort and his cohorts. That's where he was, Neville. That's where he has always been.'

The shock at Harry's words had Neville take a step back. The pure anger radiating from Harry was overwhelming, and Neville had to pause to wonder if he was about to lash out, unleash some curse at him.

'They took him, Neville. They kept him for months.' Harry raged, helpless with fury. 'Would you like all the gory details?' He didn't wait for a reply, blindly forging ahead, wanting Neville to finally realise the extent of Draco's torment. 'He begged them to let him die.' His voice shook, the black anger holding him tightly, a vice around his chest.  
'You know how it feels to go through life without your parents, we both do. But just imagine for one moment of the thoughts in their heads as they were forced to watch their only son being raped in front of them, powerless to do anything other than watch as he was tortured, his stomach carved up, his back shredded to ruins. And think about how Draco felt when they were killed in front of him, made to live with their stinking corpses.' Harry spat. 'I hope you are happy now that you finally know where I have been night after night. He can't sleep, he's terrified to close his eyes.'

'Harry... I...

'I don't want your pity, and neither does Draco. But I do want your silence. I'm telling you now, Neville, if you breathe one word about this, I'll...I'll...'

'I won't say anything, Harry, I swear it.' He held up his hands, his face white, his stomach in knots.

'He almost died.' Harry told him, his body deflating. 'I'll not see him hurt again. Do you hear me?'

'Yes. Harry, I'm...'

'Don't even begin to tell me how sorry you are right now, Neville. You have no idea how fucking sorry I'm going to be when I now have to go to him and tell him that every single person in that room,' he jabbed his finger towards the closed doors of the Great Hall. 'Every single one of them has his name on their fucking lips! I've got to find a way of telling him that he is out of time. They will come looking, do you realise that? Nobody will be happy until Draco is seen.'

'Harry...'

'He just wanted some time. Just a little time to get better, to face this fucking world again.' Harry failed to realise that tears were streaming down his cheeks.

'I'm sorry.' Neville blurted, his own eyes filling rapidly.

'A fat lot of good that will do Draco.' He turned his back on one of his oldest friends. 'Make an excuse for me, Neville. Think of something to tell those vultures why I left. Do you think you can do that for me?'

'Yes.' Neville's nod went unseen.

'I'll be with him all night, that is if he can stand the sight of me after I have told him that the one person he has trusted, the one person who can touch him without setting off a screaming nightmare has just betrayed him. Draco trusted me with his secret. Do you realise how important that was to him? And I've just broken that trust.'

'I didn't mean...'

'Just shut up.' Harry sighed, his fury draining away to crushing sadness. 'You'll get what you want, Neville. He won't want me near after I tell him what I've done.' 

 

Neville watched him walk away, head dipped, shoulders sagging under the weight of his betrayal.


	25. Chapter 25

Neville slumped down on his bed, his shoulders hunched over, his eyes damp, his heart still thumping. He could do no more than stare at the empty space before him where Harry used to sleep through the night. 

How he wished he remained in the dark. Those words that Harry had used, each and every one more terrible than the first, echoing around his head. He knew he would never forget them. Why did he ask? Why had he pushed at Harry so, forcing him to tell everything. After all this time, why shouldn't Harry do as he pleased?

Tortured. Raped. Dying. Each one used for Draco Malfoy.

 

He could clearly remember the first time he had seen Harry leave his bed in the dead of night.

The room had been silent, almost dark. The light of the crescent moon glinting through a chink in the curtains.  
He had been on the very edge of sleep, his eyes drifting closed after a long week back at school. Lessons crammed full of information that Neville realised he hadn't a hope in fully understanding. Teachers eager and willing to put in all the effort required to get the returning students ready for the final exams, preparing them for that great wide world.

The creak of old bedsprings had roused him from near slumber, the sound of feet hitting the bare wooden floor. Someone was moving about the room. He had cracked an eye open, annoyed at being disturbed when he was so close to rest.

It had been Harry. Neville watched him through one eye. Harry wouldn't know, too preoccupied in being quiet.

It wasn't a great surprise that Harry was awake and out of bed. It had been a regular sight in the past, he had always been up to something. But Neville had believed those days were long gone. Perhaps he was only paying a visit to the toilet. But he didn't appear to be headed in that direction, pushing his feet into slippers, shrugging on his dressing gown, reaching for his wand and glasses. This was not a quick trip to answer a call of nature.  
Neville watched as Harry left the bedroom, listened as he let himself out of the portrait hole.

Harry deserved his secrets after living such as life as he had. His story an open book that everyone was eager to read. He must have had his reasons for venturing out at night, it wouldn't do to ask.  
He allowed himself to sink into sleep, believed that this new journey for his friend would be a one off, a bout of temporary insomnia.

 

Only it kept happening. Night after night Harry followed that same routine. He would get into bed as the others did, the usual chorus of 'goodnight' echoing around the room. Shouts of laughter and sometimes catcalls as curtains were dropped. Then there was silence.

Harry always seemed to give it half an hour before reappearing.  
Slippers, dressing gown, wand and glasses. It had almost never varied. Almost. He left one night with his Invisibility Cloak, and never returned with it, the same thing happened with The Marauders Map, shoved carelessly into a pocket. Sometimes he emerged from behind the hanging drapes fully clothed, despite retiring in his sleepwear.  
The one thing that never changed was the fact that he would leave each and every night, and not return until morning.  
He would sneak back into his bed, only emerging when the others woke, pretending that he had indeed spent the night behind his curtains. Leaving all of the other boys none the wiser to his night-time sojourn.

Apart from Neville.

 

He hadn't asked him. And if truth be told he had been afraid to. Didn't really want the answer to what he suspected. Ginny.

Ginny was with Dean, and appeared to be happy. They both did. Going to lessons hand in hand, sitting closely together in the evenings. Should anyone be in the mind to try, they would struggle to slide a piece of parchment between them.

She and Harry had not worked out. It was as simple as that. It was the story they both told anyone who happened to ask. They would always remain friends, but nothing more. Neville had believed that. Right up until Harry kept vanishing.

Finally his mind had been made up for him.  
Dean had spoken to him, was considering asking Ginny to become his fiancé. It was fast, they were still so young. But after the War, after everything, why wait? Why not grab life with both hands and run with it.  
Neville knew that he had no longer had a choice, he would have to confront Harry. Had to know if Ginny was the reason he no longer slept in his own bed. Was he still seeing her? Was she cheating on Dean?

 

He had been shocked that night in the locker room, Harry sobbing on him like his heart had broken. In all the years, and through all the struggles, Neville had never seen Harry like this before. He hugged him, told him he would listen. And above all, he believed him when Harry said it wasn't Ginny.

And later, when McGonagall had apeared and spirited him away, that haunted look in her eyes, Neville had vowed to himself there and then that he would allow Harry his secret. He would never ask, he would never mention it again.

But... Tonight, and hearing that name, Draco Malfoy.  
He had looked on in growing horror and realisation as Harry's face fell, as his eyes screwed shut, as the hand that held his fork tightened, began to shake. And it had instantly fallen into place.  
Harry already knew that Malfoy was back. Not only that but that was where he was spending his nights, that was why he was so very tired during the days.

He had been going to him, night after night.

 

Neville had seen red. He had been so furious that he never paused to consider the reason why. Had even asked if they were shagging. No, he hadn't asked that at all. He had asked if they were fucking. There was a difference.  
And that difference had terrified him.

Not once, in all the long years of their friendship had Neville been scared of him. Scared of what he could do, in awe of the raw power he possessed, yes, without a doubt. But never truly frightened by him. Right up until tonight, until moments ago.

For those split seconds, he had honestly believed that Harry was capable of hurting him. He would have been justified.  
He had told Harry that he would always be there. Would always be a shoulder to cry upon. He had gone against his words, questioned him, thrown accusations without thought, without understanding. His friendship in tatters, thrown away in a moment of unthinking naivety.

 

There had been no Muggle books in Draco's childhood. The Manor was not lacking in literature, far from it. Reading was plentiful, and Draco had whiled away many an hour in the Manor Library on a cold, lonely holiday. Certainly no Muggle books were allowed to sully his Father's extensive collection.

But the book on his lap was beyond beautiful, beyond anything he had ever held. It's simplicity held a magic all of it's own, the golden embossed letters, the thick leather cover, the smell, the touch, the gossamer thin pages.  
No wonder Harry treasured it.

He could focus on the words now. The crisp black ink no longer swam before his eyes in a muddle of letters and smeared blotches. He could read for himself. It took time, patience, his eyesight might never be what it was, but he could certainly read the book for himself. It wasn't the same.

The words were remembered, Oliver Twist had now became his own favourite. But there was something about the way Harry had read this story to him. He couldn't hope to do the tale justice. His fingers skimmed across the paper, picking out paragraphs, sentences. All with the voice of Harry in his head.

Those very first days in his little room were clogged full of memories that could never be erased. Full of pain, uncertainty, and a fervent wish that everything could be cast aside. So to hold this book in his hands, the very first one from those dark days, and be able to smile at the memory it conjured was a surprise to him.

 

Draco wasn't expecting the slight tap at his door. It set his heart pounding, froze his hands, It was mealtime, by rights he would be alone for hours yet. He owned no clock, the growing darkness outside his window served as his only timepiece.  
Too early for Harry to be here. The full night-time was when he would knock. Knock and push the door sightly, his shy smile appearing around the heavy wooden door.

Only it was Harry. His fingers gripping the door too tightly, his jaw set, his eyes red from crying. 

And Draco knew. His time was up.

 

Crying would not solve anything. But the sight of Draco in his bed, blankets wrapped around him, shielding him from the chill of the evening, the book that meant the world to him resting on his legs, pages open, his finger on the start of a chapter, was more than he could stand. 

He felt his eyes fill. Furious at himself. He had already had to stop on his short walk here to compose himself. It would not do to appear at Draco's bedside with salty tears running rivers down his cheeks. He had to be strong, had to get Draco through this. He owed it to him to tell him everything, including his betrayal.

'Harry?' Draco's whispered question told him everything. He knew, had already guessed just from the look on his reddened face.

'Draco... I'm so sorry.' 

'They all know, don't they?' His voice almost silent in the quiet little room.

'Yes.' Harry nodded. He wanted to sit, wanted to take up Draco's hands and lend him some warmth, some safety that had been taken from him yet again. But he couldn't, the sting of what he had said to Neville heavy in his chest.  
Betrayal. That one word would end his life with Draco. Would put an end to everything he never knew he needed. To surrender this strange new friendship would break his heart. To walk out of this room once and for all, to say goodbye...

'Everyone?'

'I left before word got around. But by now, yes. They will all know.'

Draco didn't even want to ask how. What did it matter? His time was up, his sanctuary discovered. He wasn't ready, he would never be ready.

'It was only a matter of time, Harry.' Draco forced a dry smile for him. 'I was lucky that I got this long.'

'Neville knows what happened to you.' Harry broke. 'I told him. I...I was angry, he said things... I should have w...walked away from him.' The words spilling from Harry in a sobbing rush, he couldn't contain his hurt at what he had done to the boy in the bed. 'I'm so sorry. It's not fair. I...I told your secret, I was wrong. I'm a shit. Tell me to go, Draco. You have to tell me, because...because I can't do it. You have to say it.'

'I don't want you to go. I don't ever want you to go.' Draco told him softly. It was the truth. No matter what happened now, he needed Harry. Even if his time with him was drawing to a close.

'I told him.' Harry stumbled on, desperate for Draco to be angry. He wanted Draco to yell, scream at him. Wanted Draco to hate him as much as he hated himself. 'He said such horrible things about you, lies. And...and I told him. You can't forgive that, Draco. Please.' Harry scrubbed angrily at his already sore eyes. 'I betrayed you.'

'Harry,' Draco smiled. 'You didn't. You are exhausted. You have been looking after me for so long now that I can hardly remember a time when you were not here. You come here, night after night, making me stronger, making be able to face what's to come. You did that for me. And it's making you ill. It's no wonder that you spoke up, you had to.'

'You can't make this right, you can't understand it.' Harry shook his head. 'I told him what happened to you.'

'Come here.' Draco closed the book, set it aside.

'Draco, no.'

'Come here.' A whisper, so gentle, so full of understanding. 'You look so tired, Harry. You have helped me to sleep, let me return the favour.' He pulled back the covers, his hand reaching out, the space beside him small and inviting. 'Please. I need you tonight.'

That did it. That tiny declaration fractured Harry's will. His feet leading him to the bed, into Draco's waiting embrace.

 

The night pulled in. Harry slept beside him, his hand resting on Draco's gently moving stomach. The touch intimate, soothing, right.

Harry had spent his tears, sobbed while Draco offered comfort, whispering words that reversed their roles. Draco wasn't angry, how could he be? Harry was sad, hurt and tired and heartsick. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Harry was the one getting him better. All the magic, all the potions in the world were nothing compared to the boy sleeping beside him.  
But the cost was too high. It was breaking Harry. 

Enough was enough, it was time to end this madness.


	26. Chapter 26

'We have a duty of care to Mr Malfoy.' Professor McGonagall watched as Madam Pomfrey had to shift a stack of papers across her overflowing desk before she was able set down the two steaming cups of tea she carried. 'But we also owe it to him to carry out his wishes.' She took the chair opposite, immediately picking up the much needed beverage.

'Moving from my care, returning to his lessons? The boy is not well, Minerva.' Madam Pomfrey rubbed her hands over her tired eyes. 'He cannot be allowed to push himself too hard. You know as well as I that his injuries were most severe, I did not expect him to live, let alone come as far as he has. But his recovery is slow. That...that curse inside of him will not relent. My fear is that he will try and do too much, and his body will react accordingly.'

'I understand all of your worries.' McGonagall sighed, sipping carefully at her cup. 'But Draco is resolute. He is to leave his room tonight, and resume his schooling after Halloween. My own fear is that should we not allow him his request, he will leave.'

'And Potter will follow.' Pomfrey smiled for the first time that morning.

'The two have become very fond of each other.' Her own lips twitching. 'And as such, it has made Draco more concerned for Harry's well-being than his own.' 

'To the point that he could seriously endanger his own recovery. Draco has made it known to me that he cannot contemplate holding a wand, let alone attempt magic.'

'Yes, I am also aware of this. He has agreed to some one on one lessons with me regarding this matter.'

'Is that wise? We cannot know what performing magic will do to him.'

'Mr Malfoy is adamant that he wants to attempt to live a normal life as possible. He is a wizard, Poppy. It is our responsibility to help Draco with his future, whatever that may hold. Should it turn out that he is no longer able to perform magic, or indeed own a wand, then it is up to us to guide him through what would undoubtedly be a very difficult, confusing transition. But, as it stands, neither he, nor we, know what the case will be. I will not force him. Draco has time. His life with Hogwarts does not have to end when eighth year is over. He can stay. Indefinitely if he so wishes.' Her sigh spoke volumes. 'I could have seen it, Poppy, I should have seen it.'

'You cannot keep blaming yourself for this. What happend to Draco happened because of choices that were made long ago. It is not your fault.'

'Is it not the fault of all of his teachers? We allowed this to happen. He's a child, a child that was under my care. And I let him slip away.'

'Minerva, you could not have known. No one could.' 

'I am his headmistress. I am now his only guardian. I want to give Draco everything he needs. I cannot change his past, but I can help give him a future.' McGonagall took a deep breath, it would not do to get upset. Now was the time for action, not more tears. 

'And where does Harry fit into all of this? Is he aware of Draco's plans?'

'At the moment, no. Draco is trying to protect him. It turns out that our folly in revealing Draco's return has had a detrimental effect in Harry's life away from Mr Malfoy. I have been made aware that Potter has fallen out of friendship with Mr Longbottom. His school work is deteriorating, his sleep is being affected. It is only a matter of time before the boy breaks entirely. Our duty lies with our students, Poppy. I will not see a single one of them suffer needlessly.'

'But Draco hiding from him in a solitary room in the castle will not help matters, it will make them worse.'

'Yes. It will.' Professor McGonagall nodded her agreement. She took another sip, fixing Madam Pomfrey with her steady gaze.

'You have a plan.' Madam Pomfrey grinned, her head tilting. 'I know you too well, Minerva.'

 

His bed had been stripped, the covers thrown into a corner. The curtains pulled back, allowing the late October sun to flood the room.  
The nondescript black jumper he wore scratched where it touched. He could feel it rubbing against his scars. Nothing about this felt familiar, nothing felt safe.

'Almost time to go, Draco.' Madam Pomfrey addressed him kindly, finishing with the folding of his pyjamas. Harry's. Harry's pyjamas.

'Yes. Thank you.' He spoke, willing his eyes not to water, willing himself not to think about Harry as he sat on his chair, as he watched Harry's belongings being put into a tidy pile. It would not do to dwell on the past.

'Are you quite sure you are ready?' She asked, sitting herself on the bare mattress, wanting to reach out and touch the lonely child. But she wouldn't. She knew how it was.

'I am out of options.' He told her, staring down at his trembling hands. 'Everyone will know where I am.'

'You can have as much time as you need, Draco. We can keep you safe here. No one will be able to find you.'

'But can you keep Harry safe?' He looked up into her sad eyes. 'Can you stop him from arguing with his dearest friend? Can you make him sleep in his own bed? Can you prevent him from coming to me in the middle of the night?'

'Is that what you truly wish?'

'Not for me. But for him, yes. I wish all that, and more.'

'And what about Harry? Do you believe he would want to be kept away?' She spoke quietly, wanting Draco to see.

'It is for the best. In time he will realise that.' He shook his head. 

'I wouldn't be so sure.' Her smile was kind, all knowing. 'Harry was with you because he cares, Draco. Sending him away, leaving him, will not change that. If anything, it will make him all the more determined. You have known him for all of your school life. Tell me something, Draco, has he ever struck you as the kind of person who is able to walk away? As someone who is prepared to give up anything for an easy life?'

'No.' He couldn't stop his own smile. 'But that doesn't mean he makes the right choices.'

'That's just it exactly, Draco. They are his choices. And you know he would chose to continue to see you, whatever that means for him. You can be friends outside of this room. You and he are the most tenacious students I have ever come across. If anyone can make it work, it is you two.'

'I'm so tired.' Draco sighed. 'If you had said all that when I first started Hogwarts, I would have agreed with you completely. But now, after everything, I'm not sure I have any energy left to fight.'

'Harry would fight for you.' Madam Pomfrey told him. She couldn't help herself. Leaning forwards, she finally reached over the space between them and took hold of Draco's hands.

'He has fought for me.' He stared down at those safe, sure hands that held his. 'But it is time for him to have his life back. It's already been long enough. Harry has helped me more than I could ever wish, it is time I gave him something in return.' 

'Harry will not see it that way.'

'I'm not going to change my mind about this.' He could not allow himself to be swayed, this was too important. 'I need to get back to my schooling, I need to start moving on from what has happened. And if that means being on my own, then so be it.'

'You won't ever be alone, Draco. If you need anything, anything at all, you know where to find me.'

'I will never be able to thank you enough for all that you have done for me. You and Professor McGonagall have both gone out of your way to look after me. More than I ever deserved, and I shall always be eternally grateful.' He gave her hands a weak squeeze.

'Your recovery is thanks enough, my boy.' Anything else she was about to say was stolen when the slight knock at the door made them both start. 'I guess that will be Professor McGonagall coming to escort you to your new room.' Standing, she opened the door to the headmistress.

'Draco is ready.' Madam Pomfrey informed her. 

'Thank you, Poppy.' She stepped inside. And that's when Draco saw Harry standing behind her.

 

'He will never agree to this.' Madam Pomfrey said quietly after closing the door on the two boys. 'He is too headstrong.'

'That is why I brought Potter along with me.' McGonagall threaded her arm through Pomfreys, leading her down the corridor 'We both agree that Draco cannot be on his own right now. This is the clear solution.'

'But... Gryffindor?'

'If anyone can convince Draco that residing in Gryffindor Tower is a good idea, it is Harry.'


	27. Chapter 27

To see him standing there before them all, a lone Slytherin in a sea of angry Gryffindors tried all of Harry's resolve.

He had promised him, sworn that he would do nothing, say nothing. Pretend that they hadn't spent the last months chasing away nightmares, wrapped together in blankets, hands stroking, calming.  
He could do this, he could watch in silence as McGonagall told his fellow students that Draco would be joining them, that he would be spending his days, evenings and nights with them, in this tower, in the den of the lions.

He wanted to go to him, get him away from all of this, all of them. All of those openly hostile eyes turned in his direction. He knew what McGonagall was going to say, he tuned her words out, concentrated on the boy who could not look his way.  
Harry knew Draco was clasping his hands tightly behind his back not out of stiff standing, but out of fear, fear that every pair of eyes would notice his constant tremble. He could see the unshod tears, he could see the set of his jaw, and the way he shifted imperceptibly. He could see the pain radiating from him.  
All he wanted to do was defy Draco's request, pull him up in his arms, take him away from all the glares, the shocked whispers. Run away, escape this cruelty once and for all. Draco didn't deserve this.

Harry did nothing.

 

'Come along, Draco.' McGonagalls words finally broke through the relentless pounding in his skull. The way she turned to Draco, the way she put her hand carefully on his scar covered back, it all made Harry want to scream. It should have been him doing that. It should have been him leading Draco to his new bed, the one placed near his own.

 

McGonagall guided him from the room. The low murmur that followed them grew until Draco could hear it from the foot of the stairs. Angry voices rising in pitch until it was a veritable wall of noise at his back.

'They will come to accept you, Draco.' She said kindly.

'Perhaps they would be right not too.' He forced a watery smile.

Unlike the boy beside her, she had glanced in Harry's direction as she had spoken to the Gryffindor group. Helpless was the first word that had came to her. Helpless. And desperate to be by Draco's side.  
'You have Harry's full support, if you would only let him in.' 

'Just knowing I have it is enough.' Draco told her. 'I want what's best for him, and I am not that.'

'Draco...'

'No.' His word was final. 'It's this way or nothing. Harry's knows that, this is the agreement. He and I are not friends out here,' He waved his hand weakly. 'It wouldn't work, it wouldn't be understood. Harry needs his friends. They are the only family he has left. I am not going to take that from him.'

'I'm sure you wouldn't be.' She protested, not fully believing her words.

'I would, you know that. His friends mean the world to him, and without a doubt I would drive a wedge between them, even unintentionally. He has already fallen out with one of them because of me. I will not see it happen with anyone else.'

'And you believe you can make this work? You honestly think that you and Harry can carry on as if nothing has passed between you? Keeping your friendship secret?'

'It has to work' Draco told her with a heavy heart. 'Or...or I cannot stay.' She gave his shoulder a careful squeeze.

 

'Before I show you where you shall be sleeping, there is something I need to tell you.' McGonagall halted him by the door to the bedroom. 'I didn't mention it before because I did not want to get your hopes up, only to dash them. But...' She stopped.

'But what?'

'Your trunk has been located. It is at the bottom of your bed.'

'My trunk?' Draco blinked. 

'When you... Left,' She chose her words carefully, 'I had the House Elves remove it to storage for safe keeping, should you ever return. Unfortunately it was misplaced, that is why I did not like to mention it to you. But yesterday, after a lot of searching, they found it.'

'I...I...' Draco stuttered, the tremor in his hands growing. He felt sick, dizzy. It was all he could do to stay on his feet. He knew everything was lost to evil. The entirety of his childhood had been locked inside the Manor. The thought that there was something that had ecsaped the clutches of Voldemort was inconceivable.

'You do not need to open it tonight, Draco. You don't need to even think about it until you are ready, whenever that may be.' She pushed on the door to the Gryffindor bedroom.

 

He sat upon covers of red and gold, red and gold drapes heavy around the bed. Never again would he put his head against Slytherin pillows, never again would he sleep under the House of his sorting. 

He couldn't see the trunk, but he was all too aware that it sat there, waiting. Stained oak, expensive fittings, silver handles, green trim. Menacing and dark and full of his former life. There were clothes, robes and such like in amongst the packed items. Books, parchment, spare quills. The usual things a school boy needed in his daily life. And letters. Photographs, memories. He couldn't think about it, not now, not tonight. McGonagall was right, it could wait.

 

The low level silencing charm that McGonagall had cast around his bed prickled his skin. The room was still empty, his new roommates had yet to come to their own beds. It wasn't surprising. Draco knew without a doubt that he would be the sole focus of their angry conversations. He couldn't begin to imagine the words being said about him. He didn't care, not really. He only cared about what Harry must be going through.  
To have to stand there, to have to listen in impassive silence, pretend that the last few months hadn't happened, that they had not come to care about each other. Draco knew that he couldn't do it. 

He just had to hope that Harry could.

 

'I can't do it.' Harry slipped through the curtains.

'You can. You have to.' Draco replied easily, not needing to ask what he was talking about. 

'They are still at it you know, still slagging you off.' Harry slumped down on the bed beside him, close.

'I'm not surprised.' Draco laughed humorlessly. 'I am a bastard who hates them all.' He reached for him, tugged on his hand. 'Should you be here?'

'I told them I was going to bed.' Harry shook his head, intertwining his fingers with Draco's 'I don't think they even noticed. They haven't stopped all night, Draco. It's...it's fucking horrible having to listen to all the shit they are making up, all the tales that are flying around about you.'

'Have they planned their mutiny yet? Or am I to be thrown to the wolves?' Draco said, only half joking.

'You are staying.' Harry brokered no argument. 'But...'

'But?' Draco prompted. 'What is to be done with me?'

'It has been agreed, you shall be ignored by everyone. Not one single person is going to speak to you, look at you, adknowledge your existence.'

'I...I can live with that.'

'I'm not sure I can.' Harry sighed. 'I wish...I just wish they could see beyond the past. It's seems stupid to be angry over something so small. After everything else that has happened, why should it matter where you sleep?'

'You need to look at it from their point of view, Harry. I'm a Slytherin, a Death Eater...'

'No, you're not.' Harry interrupted, his voice harder than he intended.

'To them I am.' Draco didn't react, his thumb rubbing lightly across the back of Harry's hand. 'My father was, I also have the Dark Mark. For all they know, I could be planning to murder them in their sleep. Why should they understand it, Harry.'

'It shouldn't be that way.' Harry huffed. 'What's done is done. The War is over, the last few years are over. I'm sick of all the fighting.'

'I broke your nose, I bullied Neville, stole his things, called one of your best friends the most despicable name ever. Teased, picked on and generally made most of your friends lives a misery here. Why should they forget about that? I wouldn't.' 

'You are not like that, not now.' Harry said quietly.

'And only you know that.' Draco spoke, his head falling to Harry's shoulder. 'I cannot hope to undo all I did wrong. I was horrid, a vile excuse for a human.'

'Draco... Don't.'

'It has to be said. I was a bully, a coward. I do not expect anyone to see beyond that. What...what happened to me doesn't change what I did to them, to you. I can't ever be forgiven.'


	28. Chapter 28

The common room was empty, the bedroom was empty. The blond boy sat alone on his bed, everyone else at the Halloween feast. He would take his meal later. Go down to the kitchens and make himself a sandwich. 

It was strange, being in this tower, so very different from the dungeons that he was used too. It was warm here, the fire always burning brightly, throwing off the most incredible heat, not that he ever dared to get close to that beckoning warmth. They wouldn't like it.

The Gryffindors kept to their word.  
He wasn't here, a ghost, a presence without form, without a voice. He had been speaking the truth when he told Harry that he could live with it, it was better than he deserved, than he ever expected. He stayed in the shadows, mostly confining himself to his bed, the curtains closed. Harry his only visitor.

School was to begin again for him tomorrow. Bright and early. He didn't like to think about the reaction from the other Houses, from his own House. He knew that Slytherins didn't take too kindly to desertion, to feeling betrayed.

It would all work out in the end, Draco had to tell himself. One way or another.

 

The trunk still sat at the foot of his bed. Still untouched, a memory made solid.  
Carved from a single piece of oak, stained dark, polished to a high shine, it really was a thing of beauty. Bought for him by proud parents when his Hogwarts letter had been delivered. His mother by his side as it was purchased by his father. Draco full of trepidation at the sight of this mighty sign that his life was finally beginning. He was a wizard.

Imposing, formidable, dark and ancient. Over the last few days the trunk had come to symbolise much more than a nod to his past. It had become everything.  
There were letters inside, beautiful letters full of flowing script and a poetic style that was all his mother. Her handwriting flawless, much like the woman herself. She loved him dearly, she told him so in each and every delivery.  
Had. Had loved him dearly. There would be no more letters.

His fathers approach was more abrupt, more focused on his studies, his future. But no less loving as a result. Lucius Malfoy may not have been the most demonstrative of people, but there had always been a kiss at the bottom of the page, signed off 'with love.'

And photographs. Tied together with a red ribbon, Draco had always cherished these few pictures. Photographs of the three of them together, in the Manor, in the extensive gardens. Moving, smiling, as happy as their life allowed.  
Too be able to look upon those pictures again, to see his parents alive. Not the dancing cadavers from his nightmares.

 

The lid was heavier than he remembered, only able to open at his hands, but then he wasn't the same boy who had lifted it all those long months ago. Nervous longing coiled in his stomach, just the very thought that he would now be able to touch a small part of his former life, to claw back a little piece of himself.

A flash of green Quidditch robes caught his eye before his senses were assaulted by the smell of bergamot.

 

The Halloween feast was turning out to be an unusual affair.  
Pumpkins floated above the heads of the students, triangles for eyes, spiky teeth, candles glowing inside each one. Tables groaning under the weight of too much food, enormous glass bowls overflowing with pumpkin juice, so far, so normal.  
But the tables had been pushed to the edges of the hall, a small scattering of chairs. There was music coming from somewhere undiscovered. Several of the younger students had already picked an area to dance in, and were doing so with unbridled glee. Seamus was making himself known among the year eights, a bottle of Firewhisky smuggled under his jumper. Pouring liberal splashes into glasses whenever one was raised.

Neville shivered, happily watching the goings on but wishing he had remembered to bring along his cardigan. It was on the bottom of his bed, laid there to remind him to put it on before going down to the feast. He had promptly forgotten. He still had time, this impromptu party wasn't about to end anytime soon. He could just run up to the room, grab his trusty cardigan and be back in less than five minutes.

 

Draco didn't need to pull anything from the trunk to know that it was all a mess. He did it anyway. Stained cloth, wrecked books and crusted parchment lay all around the devastated boy, his legs pulled under him despite the pain. Nothing mattered anymore.

It was shampoo. His extortionately expensive shampoo and a cap that he had failed to tighten properly. The liquid had seeped into everything. He crushed the destroyed letters in his hands, the treasured photographs mangled upon his lap. Dried fluid ruining the images of his parents forever.

Draco sobbed. His own stupidity had caused this, not Voldemort, not Death Eaters, him. His vanity, his haste, his desire for luxury. He had ruined any chance at having something good, something worth holding onto.

 

Neville found him slumped against the open trunk, the letters still in his cold clenched fist. Tears still falling to the floor. The boy had cried a river, his chest heaving, his entire body trembling, struggling to breath.

'Malfoy?' Shocked, Neville crept forward, all thoughts of his own warmth gone from his mind. 

'G...go.' Draco gasped, looking up. 'P...please...' His eyes huge and wet. Sitting on the floor, surrounded by his belongings, a strong scent in the air. 

'I can't leave you, Malfoy.' Neville could feel his heart skip at the waves of sorrow coming from Draco. 'Not like this.'

'It's...it's a..all g..gone.' The boy sobbed, his fists curling tighter. 'It's...it's my fault.'

'Look, I'll go get Harry.' 

'No... He...he has to s...stay.' Draco wept, clasping the mass of paper to his chest.

'It's a party down there. No one will notice if he slips away, I swear.' Neville stepped closer, his hand reaching out. Draco flinched, forced himself hard against the solid wood at his back, anything to get away from those grabbing hands. 'Sorry. I didn't mean to frighten you.' Neville spoke softly, snatching his hand away, his feet retreating. To see Draco Malfoy reduced to this...

 

Neville spied Harry leaning against one of tables, casually sipping from a glass that was doubtless provided by Seamus. Pushing his way through the throng of students, he eventually found himself at Harry's side.

'What do you want, Neville?' Harry sighed, setting down his drink. Their relationship was strained, civil, but not friendly. Harry could not forget that he had spilled all of Draco's closely guarded secrets to the boy standing beside him. He didn't blame Neville, it wasn't his fault. It was purely his own doing, this was something he had to work through himself.

'It's...it's Malfoy.' Neville whispered, careful to make sure he was not in earshot of anyone. 'He's really upset. He can hardly speak. I...I'm not sure what's wrong. He's on the floor, sitting in a pile of robes, and it smells like some kind of perfume in there.'

'Is he hurt?' Harry turned to him, his eyes blown.

'No. I don't think so. But... I went to touch him, Harry...'

'He can't stand that.' Harry murmured. 'I...I have to get out of here.' 

'Come on.' Neville urged, taking Harry's hand.

 

'I found him like that.' Neville told him, needlessly pointing. Malfoy exactly where he had left him. 'What's happened, Harry?'

'Draco?' Harry spoke, ignoring Neville's question. 'What's wrong? Can you tell me?' He stepped closer, that smell growing. A perfume of sorts, Neville was right about that. Citrus.

'Look.' The boy on the floor spoke weakly, staring up at Harry. His voice cracked, heavy tear tracks glistening on his pale cheeks. 'Look.' He held up his curled fist, yellowed paper peaking out from beneath his fingers. 'Look at what I did.' 

'What did you do?' Harry dropped to his knees, almost touching him. 'Show me.'

'I...I ruin everything.' He began to sob. 'Look.' Uncurling his fingers, he pushed the mass into Harry's hands. Harry held it carefully, not realising at first what it was he was mean to be looking at. 'Letters.' Draco choked around his tears. 'Fix them.'

'Draco...' Harry felt the cold hard ball of dread forming in his stomach. He knew instantly what had happened. The heavily stained clothes, the mess of paper and parchment, the small bundle of squares in Draco's lap with a red ribbon staining through them all, the smell in the air. The empty shampoo bottle at Draco's feet.

'Fix them.' Draco pleaded. 'Please.'

'I...I can't.'

'My...my mummy... My daddy.' Draco cried, his eyes closing. 'Fix them.'

'Draco, I can't.' Harry felt his own tears falling. There was nothing he could do. There was nothing anyone could do.

'Harry?' Harry heard Neville at his back, his voice quiet. He had almost forgotten there was anyone else in the room. 'Shall I fetch Madam Pomfrey? Perhaps she could give him something to calm him down? Help him get to sleep?'

'There isn't anything that can help him, Neville. He's been too badly hurt.'

'What...what can I do?' Neville asked. 'There has to be something.'

Get him some water, he will be parched.' Harry finally snapped to attention. 'I need to get him off this bloody floor.' 

'Okay, yes. Water.' Finally he could be of some use. There was a mug by his own bed, he could use that. Neville drew his wand, the spell already on his lips. He was startled by Harry's panicked, raised voice.

'Not magic. Use the tap in the bathroom.' Harry instructed, his body edging closer to Draco. 'He cannot stand wands.'

Neville didn't question it. Snatching up his mug, he went into the shared bathroom.

 

He was quiet when he returned to the room, the overflowing mug in his hands. Watching silently as Harry picked the thin boy from the floor with too much ease. Not saying a word as Harry set Draco down on his bed, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders.

'Why did this have to happen?' Harry's voice was so soft that it took Neville a long moment before he realised he was being spoken to. 'Why now, why this? Hasn't he already lost enough?' He watched as Harry stroked his hand over Draco's hair, so gentle in his movements that Neville couldn't answer for fear of crying. 'Put it all away, Neville, please.' Harry begged. 'It's too much to bear.'

Neville set the water within reach of Harry. Getting to his knees, he began packing away Draco's only belongings.


	29. Chapter 29

The crackers had been pulled, the food eaten and the presents opened, all saving two that remained unknown, waiting for night to fall.

Harry had stayed, that was the start of it. His friends had packed up their belongings, hitched bags onto shoulders, dragged heavy cases. Harry had only watched. His story a believable one, and half true.  
Dean was going to the Weasleys this Christmas. Neville finally telling Harry in confidence that Dean was going to propose to Ginny over the festivities. And Harry knew he had his excuse. In part wanting to be with Molly, Arthur, George and all, but needing to be with Draco. Not just for the blond boy's sake, not for the chasing away of nightmares, but for his own.

Harry knew he could not be one of those students who slung on a coat and walked out of the castle for a week. Knowing that Draco would be watching from the top most window, not waving goodbye, not even daring to acknowledge each other. He couldn't do it.

 

The day was not theirs, but the common room was. Another feast in the Great Hall, remaining students dining with the teachers on this special day. Some had stayed, most had not. Draco joined them all, finally. Shocking Harry, the boy had sat near. Only teachers spoke to him, the students still showing their contempt to the boy who had vanished for so very long.  
Draco could not look at Slytherin. The small group clustered at the end of the table, muttering under their breath about his limp, his scruffy hair, his dark shadows. There was uncertainty behind those calculating eyes that lit on him throughout the meal. They knew that something was very wrong with their erstwhile Housemate.

But Harry had been pleased, and that was reason enough to be seated at the table. Only space lay between them. A few inches of air between their itching fingers. Reaching for potatoes, Harry had done the unthinkable in front of everyone and brushed Draco's hand. It was a fraction of a second, no one even noticed, the grin slight on Harry's lips. A burning touch that had found Draco hiding his smile.

 

Harry had helped Draco to the floor, to the rug that lay before the blazing fire, the only source of light in the empty common room. They sat leaning against the chair at their backs, hips touching. Glitter caught in Harry's dark hair, like a thousand tiny stars, catching the glow from the dancing flames. Draco's most favourite thing of his surprising day.

'What if someone comes in?' He asked, staring at the door that had only opened for the two of them that day.

'There isn't anyone to come in.' Harry grinned. 

'But...'

'We have the place to ourselves tonight, Draco, I swear.' Harry jumped in before Draco could continue. 'I checked. Everyone who stopped is spending the night with other people. It's just us, just for tonight.'

'It's...it's nice.' Draco turned his attention to the fire, to the heat that always helped his aching limbs.

'You don't always have to keep to the corners. You have as much right to be here as anyone else.'

'Perhaps one day.' Was his whispered reply.

 

'I want you to have this.' Draco spoke, placing a small parcel in Harry's lap. Wrapped in white tissue paper, pale blue string holding it all in place. 'It's old, I'm afraid. I had no money to get you anything properly, but...but I wanted to give you something.'

'Draco, you didn't need to do this.' Harry turned to him, watching as Draco's skin flushed. They would spend the night together, it was unspoken. Harry would pull him close, touching that fire warmed skin, leave the curtains open, watch the stars from the windows. 'What is it?

'Open it.'

 

His fingers felt clumsy, thick and unwieldy. If he were to move, to tighten his hold, he would surely break this beautiful, fragile thing into tiny pieces.  
It rested in the palm of hand, ethereal, from another time, another place. It was unlike anything Harry had ever seen. Crystal clear glass, so very transparent that it appeared almost invisible in the darkened room. Features that lay in repose, eyes shut, a tiny sweet smile on the lips of the glass figure. A thin silver string through a minute hole upon the top. A Christmas tree decoration.

'It's an angel.' Draco told him, his gaze also falling to Harry's hands. 'It...It was my mothers.'

'Draco, I...I can't take this.' He offered up the delicately crafted glass figurine.

'You can. I want you to.' He touched Harry's thigh. 'It belongs to you now.' It had still been in the trunk, among his ruined things. Opening that lid again had tested all of Draco's courage. But he had to have it, he had to rescue it. For Harry.

'Why?'

'Because it is a part of something important, something that was only mine. A good memory. I want it to be yours.' He closed Harry's hand around the tiny glass angel. 'Please.'

 

'We always had the most enormous tree.' Draco told him, staring into the fire. He could feel Harry's eyes upon him, watching rapt as Draco told him the tale. 'Mother would never allow anyone to touch it.' He closed his eyes, remembering. He could see it now, the tree standing in the drawing room, almost reaching the ceiling. 'People didn't know, but her intricate spell work was truly something to behold.' Draco continued softly. 'For hours and hours she would sit at the kitchen table, her wand in her hand, creating each and every decoration for that tree, every one made from the thinnest glass. I could watch her all day. The concentration on her face. She was so...so beautiful, Harry.'

'I know.' Harry whispered, his free hand going to Draco's waist, tugging him gently closer as Draco's tears spilled.

'The angels were always my favourite. It would take her so much time to make each one. She would spin the glass from her wand, heating it gently, guiding it with her fingers. I...I stole one. Went down late at night and just plucked it from the tree. Mother knew instantly. She didn't tell me off, she only told me to put it back. I did as she asked, but I so wanted it.' He smiled sadly at the memory, leaning heavily into Harry's side, taking strength from him. 'No more was said about it. After Christmas the tree was taken down, and all the decorations wrapped up and put away for the following year. I guess I put it from my mind. But...but my mother didn't. I found it, in my trunk on the first day back. She gave it to me, Harry. She knew I loved it so much that I was willing to steal it from her. To take what she had loved.'

'She loved you more.' 

'Yes, I suppose she did.' Harry turned Draco's face to his, his fingers gentle, his thumb catching tears that still fell. 'I miss them so much, Harry. How...how do I stand it?'

'I wish I had the answer, I wish I could tell you that it will all be all right.' He softly. 'But you have to know that you are not alone, Draco. I can't ever give you back all you have lost, I can't make it better for you. But...but don't ever think that you are alone.'

 

'I guess, if we are giving each other presents...' Harry reached behind himself, under the chair. 'I don't have anything as special as what you have given me, but... I have this for you.' He placed the badly wrapped gift on Draco's outstretched legs. 'Something old.' He looked embarrassed by his present, it would never compare to the gift Draco had bestowed upon him. To give him something that precious, the only thing he had left from his mother.

Draco picked up the parcel shyly, wanting to believe the reason behind his warmed cheeks was the fire.

 

The etched golden letters were so very familiar, instantly bringing to mind all of the good memories from that terrible time. Oliver Twist once again in his lap. The book meant the world to him, the first one Harry had read to him, the first time the darkness hadn't been so suffocatingly close.

'Harry...' Draco pulled the book to his chest. 'It's your favourite.'

'Yours too.' Harry told him, smiling.

'It..it's...' Draco faltered, overcome. 'Thank you.' He did what would have been unimaginable a year, half a year ago. Taking Harry's hand in his, he raised it to his mouth, pressing his lips against the skin on the back of Harry's hand. 'You have given me such a lovely day.' He murmured, not letting go. 'You stayed for me, didn't you?'

'Yes.' Harry whispered his reply, his gaze never wavering. 'And for me. I...I would have missed you.'

'Will you read to me?' Draco asked after a heartbeat had passed between them. 'Like you used to.'

'I would love that.' Harry took the book, opening the cover. 'Happy Christmas, Draco.'

'You too.' Draco curled in closer, ready to listen once more.


	30. Chapter 30

Harry stood quietly in the doorway of the bathing room. Watching silently, scrubbing a towel through his shower wet hair. 

Draco was standing before the open window. His back to the room, hands on the stone ledge, the chilly winter air whipping around his thin pyjamas. It was far to cold for this. Harry wanted to lead him away from that window, wrap him in layers of covers. Take him into his bed once more.  
But he knew the breeze was chasing away the last vestiges of his nightmare, the tormented dreams that had stopped either of them from sleeping throughout the night. He allowed Draco more time, he could warm him soon, they was still time enough for that, just.

The holiday was over, the students set to return later that day. All would return to the normality that was slowly killing Harry.

Watching the blond boy struggle through his days were difficult enough, but having to stand aside as he was universally ignored by all was more then Harry could bare.  
But it was more than that. Snide, sneeky comments whenever Draco walked by, dark glares and muttered hatred. Harry wanted to scream at them all. How was it that they could not see the pain in Draco's eyes, that deep ache in his fragile body? Why were they all so very cruel?

It was useless, he had begged and begged Draco more times than he cared to count. Let their friendship be known, consequences be damned. Harry could deal with it, anything was better than watching him being slowly broken down. Slowly becoming a shadow.  
But Draco was adamant, unswerving in his repeated answer. It had to continue as it was. It was for the best. There would be too many questions, too much interest.  
He had to protect Harry.

 

'How long are you going to stand there watching me?' Draco's voice in the quiet room broke through Harry's contemplation.

'All day, if I thought I could get away with it.' He spoke with a smile, stepping forward, tossing aside the damp towel. He saw Draco's shoulders move in a laugh, how he was still able to laugh after the night they just had was beyond him. 'You okay?'

'Yeah.' He answered after a long pause, waiting for Harry to join him at the window. 'I guess so.'

'You don't have to be.' Harry sighed softly, standing beside him. 'Why don't you go back to bed? See if you can get some sleep.'

'No, I...I'm going to go and see Hagrid today.' He stared at the window ledge, at where their hands lay. He wanted that hand to reach across the scant distance, just a brush of fingers. It would be enough. But he wouldn't ask.

'Draco... No, not today, not after last night.' There was panic in his voice, desperation. Not there, not now. Just the thought of Draco inside of that place again turned Harry's stomach into knots, he couldn't keep his peace over this. It was too much to stand. 'I'll sort something out. Please. Not there. I...I don't want you going in there again.'

Draco's body betrayed him, leaning closer to Harry despite himself. 'There are always going to be nightmares. There will always be a reason not to visit his hut. You still go in there.' Draco added softly, knowing that Harry would always keep his visits to Hagrid from him.

'Yes, and I can't get the image of you in there from my mind whenever I step inside. I don't want that for you. Hagrid understands, he knows why you haven't been.' Harry picked up Draco's hand unconsciously. It had become as automatic as breathing.

'He saved my life. I owe it to him to go into his home again. It's the least I can do.' Draco sighed his relief at finally being touched, his hand tightening around Harry's.

'The castle is big enough for you both to go unnoticed, you could talk to him anywhere, I don't know why you have to go back in there.'

'Because... Because I have to. I look at his hut everyday, Harry.' Draco explained softly. 'It holds too many ghosts. Please, you have to understand, you have to let me do this.'

'Can I come with you?' Harry whispered his question.

'I need to be able to do this. I have to do things alone. You...you cannnot always be there.' 

Harry didn't try to stop the note of frustration from creeping into his voice. Hadn't they had this conversation before? When would Draco finally listen to all he said? 'Why not? I'm not going anywhere, Draco. You have to believe that I'm not going to walk away from this.'

'I am always going to be this way. There is no changing it. You cannot look after me forever. There will come a time when I have to get on with things, when I have to go it alone.'

'Don't say that.'

Draco shook his head, squeezing his eyes tightly shut, refusing to allow his tears to escape. 'Don't do this, Harry. Don't make me promises that you will have to break. I...I cannot give you anything, I am not the person you need in your life.' His voice tight, dry, lest he should break down and lean into Harry, beg him for just a moment of calm.

'I don't know what I need.' Harry finally broke the silence. 'I gave up thinking that way a long, long time ago. Need never came into my life.'

'So now you get to live.' Draco smiled sadly at the extensive grounds laid before them. 'Live, Harry. Do not get trapped here with me and my issues. Go out there and do whatever it is you want, the world is yours.' He tried to extract his hand from Harry's, knowing full well that he could not hold his smile for much longer. The bathroom, he could make it to the bathroom if he was quick.  
Only Harry would not let him go, his hand tightening almost painfully.

'I may not know what I need, but I know what I want.' Harry spoke softly, following Draco's gaze across the castle grounds.

 

Despite the hazy recollections from that first night, Draco had never forgotten the way in which Hagrid had cared for him. The way he had picked him up off the forest floor, gentle, caring when all he knew was pain. Laid him down, covered his raw nakedness, got him warm, gone for help when he had been so far from saving.  
And all Draco had offered in return was a weak, watery smile whenever their paths had happened to cross.  
So it was with no small amount of shame that Draco raised his fist, poised to knock against the simple wooden door to Hagrid's home.

 

'You gonna stand there all day?' Oddly reminiscent of his own words to Harry that morning, Hagrid's gruff, friendly voice made him jump. Fang stepped forward, sniffing, interested in the boy who seemed strangely familiar.

'Oh. I... Erm...' He turned, stuttered. Hagrid had seen him, all of him. Crying, sobbing, calling out for everything to stop. Bleeding, dying on his bed, screaming and begging for the boy who lived. Weeping on that shoulder, clutching Harry. Hagrid had seen everything.

'It's too cold to be hanging around out here.' He took in the sight of Draco's thin jacket, claimed from lost property, a thin, threadbare scarf wrapped uselessly around his neck. 'Come in, the kettle is almost boiled, I'll make us a brew. How does that sound?' The giant gently touched his shoulder, smiling through that great fuzzy beard of his.

'Yes, t...thank you.' He continued to struggle to find his voice in front of the huge man before him. So much shame.  
His feet wouldn't cooperate, refusing to move from the stone step.

'Come on. It's okay.' Hagrid carefully squeezed the slight shoulder beneath his hand, his strength held in check. 'You have nothing to be frightened of in there. It's home.'

 

It was almost like he had never left. The bed where he had been placed still standing in the corner, the fire banked and burning brightly. Draco could feel the stirrings of memory. The pain of being against those sheets, the rough wool against his open back. The fear of closing his eyes, the terror of being touched again.  
But there were other memories too. Good memories. The feel of the warming fire against his frozen skin. Kind words that broke thought all of the nightmares, voices that cared, hands that helped. The slow realisation that he was finally safe.

'Sit by the fire.' Hagrid instructed. 'You look bloody freezing.' He made his lumbering way to the stove, began setting out the tea things. 'So then, lad, how are you getting along? Harry tells me that you are back in your classes.'

'I'm sorry, I...I should have come sooner.' Draco spat out, desperate to say all he wanted before the tears began. 'I...I want to...to thank you.'

'It was nothing.' Hagrid waved away Draco's words, concentrating on opening cupboards, pulling out a tin, setting biscuits on a plate, anything to keep from turning to the boy who nearly died in his bed all those months ago.

'No. You...you saved me, you...you were kind to me. Even after all I did to you.' 

'It's no matter.' The giant shrugged, finally joining Draco at the fire. In silence he poured two great mugs of tea, heaping in spoonfulls of sugar.

'You were kind, you were the first person in so long who looked after me.' It was no use, Draco could feel the start of yet more tears. 'Thank you.' He sat where Hagrid directed, distracted himself with rubbing his hand over Fangs' friendy head. 'I owe you more than I can ever say.'

'Come on now,' Hagrid sniffed. 'I did nothing more than anyone else would have done.'

'There wasn't anyone else.' Draco whispered, taking the mug from Hagrid, wrapping his cold hands around it.

'There is now.' Hagrid told him. 'I know this place isn't nice for you, that it can never be more than a bad memory, but...but it's warm here, dry. If you ever want to just sit and chat, have a cup of tea, you are more than welcome.'

'Thank you, I would like that.' He managed a smile. 'And... and it's not so bad, the memory. I was safe here, I know that now.'

'Even so, it takes real bravery to come back, that much I do know.' He pushed the plate of hard biscuits towards him. 'You should eat something, you look half starved.'

'You sound like Harry.' Draco told him, selecting a biscuit from the pile. He made no move to eat. 'He's...he's been so kind to me.' Draco spoke quietly, unable to make eye contact with the giant who watched him. 'It's like he understands completely what I need, how I need to be touched. Even things I don't know myself, he seems too.' He began to crumble the biscuit between his fingers. 'I had another nightmare last night. A bad one. He...he stayed with me. I...I think I was screaming. I couldn't breath, he...he was crying. I frighten him, but I can't make the dreams stop.'

'It's not your fault, Harry knows that.' Hagrid slowly, carefully took the destroyed biscuit from Draco's shaking hands, along with the mug that was threatening to spill into his lap.

'I was sick. All over him.' Draco admitted with shame. 'He just kept rubbing my back, he didn't mind. Told me it was all right, that it didn't matter. How can that not matter?' He didn't wait for Hagrid's reply, forging ahead in his terrible tale of last night. 'He tore up one of his t-shirts, wrapped my arm up in it, just so I didn't have to look at what I have there.' A sob ripped its way from his throat. He covered his face, ashamed by the sound of despair. 'And...and after all t...that he...he still...still touches me.'

'I tell you what, lad, you look like you could do with a hug.' Hagrid spoke, something in his heart twisting painfully at the sight of this child who had nowhere to turn. 'Would that be all right, do you think?'

Draco nodded wordlessly, his palms digging deeply into his eyes. Two months of being ignored, of grief and emptiness. Of only having looks of pity from teachers who didn't know what to say, of only having Harry, only ever at night. Only when everyone in the castle were asleep. Two months of pretending.

A few moments of the sound of a scraping chair, a shuffling forward of heavy feet, then Hagrid was encircling him in strong arms that spoke of safety, protection. Layers of coarse clothing that smelled of cold and winter, and the promise of spring.

'Do you know I once carried Harry out of that same forest.' His voice was low, a rumbling coming from deep inside his chest where Draco lay his head. 'Damn well broke my heart did that.' Hagrid sighed at the painful memory. 'But I tell you something now, that turned out all right in the end.'

'I d...don't think it...it w...will this time.' Draco tried to speak, his voice broken.

'You'll see. Things have a way of working out, it just takes time, that's all.'


	31. Chapter 31

Harry hadn't moved from the spot Draco left, leaning against the cold stone of the window ledge, gazing out across the grounds. From this vantage point he could watch Draco as he made his solitary way back to the castle from the edge of the Forbidden Forest. How long he had stood here, waiting to catch sight of Draco again, Harry couldn't tell. But his legs had locked into place, and his hands were chilled through from the draft.

The thought of Draco in Hagrid's home made him feel sick. The memory clear in his mind of that scared boy lying amongst piles of covers, that mountainous bed. Crying, in pain, and so very alone.  
Harry shook his head, wanting nothing more than to be rid of the sight that haunted his own dreams.  
He had to tell himself that it wasn't how it was, not now. Draco was better, much better. He had only gone to see the gentle giant, only wanted to give his thanks. But Harry felt he should be the one to thank Hagrid. His first ever friend had already given him so much, and now he had delivered Draco from the clutches of death.

He found that he couldn't tear his eyes away from the limping form as Draco carefully picked his way across the uneven path, his footsteps slow. It pained him to walk so far. There was a limit to how many times a hip could be shattered and repaired before it was ruined forever. Draco had long gone past that point. 

Draco paused, stopped. His hand rubbing at his face. And Harry knew instantly that he had been crying, probably still was.  
He was powerless. He could offer no comfort, or a helping arm across the path. He could only watch, and wait for night to fall. Until every single body were within their own beds, and asleep. He could not take chances, not with them, not with Draco. He had to respect his wishes. Harry didn't care if he was discovered in Draco's bed, he didn't give a damn if the entire school became aware of where he spent his nights. But Draco was. And that was all that mattered.

His routine had become a familiar necessity.  
Check the Map, just to be sure, perhaps his fathers cloak. Pull back his curtains a fraction, slip out. Make sure they fell neatly back into place.  
Draco would be waiting, always waiting for the night, for Harry to arrive.

They would talk in whispers into the early hours, until sleep claimed them both. Until Draco would wake from another nightmare.

The blond boy resumed his laboured steps far beneath the window.  
Harry wished for the return of Christmas.

 

The clatter from just outside the portrait hole made Harry jump, dragging him blinking into the reality of the day. It was time, they were back.  
Biting back a sigh, fixing a smile into place, he pushed himself away from the window, dragging his eyes from Draco's progress across the damp grounds.

'Harry!' Hermione was the first to launch herself at him, the door behind her gaping wide as a steady stream of students began to file inside the once empty room. She rushed to him, her arms flung out, almost bowling him over in her haste.

'Nice to see you too!' He grabbed at her, needing her warmth, her softness. 'Good holiday?'

'Why didn't you reply to my Owl?' She chastised him lightly, drawing back and knocking his arm with the flat of her hand.

'I did!' Harry told her. 'Twice.'

'Not the last one.' Her pout spoke volumes.

'Hermione, that was three days ago. I didn't see the point.' Harry shrugged, confused by her obvious concern.

'She thought Malfoy might have done something Unforgivable to you, mate.' Ron grinned from behind his girlfriend, dropping cumbersome bags to the floor without a care.

'I never said that!' Hermione almost squeaked, her hand turning to Ron and delivering the same weak slap that Harry had received. 'I was just thinking about you and him, stuck here together for the whole of Christmas. It must have been horrible.'

'Hmmm,' Harry murmured, his eyes flicking around the increasingly rowdy room, looking for rescue. 'It wasn't so bad.' Finding none, he decided to keep his reply as vague as possible. 'We...we didn't really see each other all that much.'

'It's weird that he didn't go home.' Seamus appeared beside them, his breathing heavy from the long climb up to the Tower, but still eager to be a part of this new piece of gossip concerning the Slytherin boy. 'I would have though that Malfoy, of all people, wouldn't have wanted to be around here for Christmas. But then he has been acting strangly since coming back.'

'Stranger than normal you mean?' Ron spoke again, tugging off his thick coat. 'What I don't get is why he is even back? And in Gryffindor of all places! It's unheard of. Dad said the rumour at The Ministry is that Malfoy's parents have vanished to the South of France, they can't find any trace of them at all. So why didn't Malfoy go with them?' Ron tossed aside his coat, almost hitting a second year student. 'He also said that Malfoy Manor is destroyed. Like completely blown to bits.'

'Is that true?' Seamus raised his eyebrows.

'Why would Dad make that up?' Ron asked, turning to Seamus. 'It wouldn't surprise me if they blew it up themselves, just to get rid of any evidence that would land them in Azkaban. Maybe they aren't in France at all and they are already locked up and it's all being kept quiet. That would explain why Malfoy stayed here for Christmas, and perhaps why he doesn't want to be in Slytherin anymore.'

'Don't you lot have anything else to talk about?' Neville's arrival was a welcome salvation from Harry's growing ire. He slid up to Harry, putting a calming hand on his back, unnoticed from the gossiping others. 'We haven't seen each other for ages, and all you want to do is stand around and talk about Malfoy. Ron, your little sister just got engaged!' Neville grinned, watching Ginny as she proudly displayed her glittering ring to the small crowd that had begun to gather around her.

'Mum is over the moon.' Ron smiled deeply, looking over to his baby sister with pride, remembering his mother's joyful reaction. It was about time the matriarch of the Weasley family had something to smile about. 'She's thinking of throwing a party once the weather changes. She...' He continued his excited chatter, but Harry had already drifted off, the subject of Malfoy all but forgotten. By everyone else at least.

 

'Ginny looks happy.' Was the first thing from Draco later, much later, that night.

'Yeah, she does.' Harry smiled, pulling his legs up onto the bed. 'It's nice. Goodness knows that the family deserve some happiness.'

'Are you okay about it?' Draco asked carefully. 'You loved her too, once.'

'I don't think it was ever love.' Harry replied softly, his voice quieter than normal. 'I wanted it to be, but... She always deserved more then I could ever give her. She loved me, she told me so, but I could never bring myself to say it back. I wasn't kind.' He drew idle patterns on Draco's thigh, distracting himself from the myriad of emotions that Ginny had raised.

'I don't believe that.' Draco tucked himself closer to Harry's side, sensing his sadness. He wanted to do nothing more than comfort him, he looked that miserable.

'I should have been honest with her from the start. It...it was never meant to be, and I think I always knew that.' He let a sigh escape, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders. 

'You are being too hard on yourself, Harry.' Draco spoke kindly, understanding. 'I think you are forgetting that you had other, far more pressing concerns at the time.' He huffed out a laugh. 'Your love life was not important.'

'It was to her.'

 

Despite the late hour, Harry found that he could not sleep. Even watching Draco sleeping softly beside him was not enough, not tonight.

He could not get the memories of Ginny from his restless head. Seeing her return, glowing under the weight of that shining piece of silver banded around her finger had brought memories to the surface, memories that he had tried so hard to repress. 

He could remember the feel of her in his arms like it was only yesterday. Naked, warm. Soft in all the right places, her body rising and falling in gentle curves. Flawless skin, sweet perfume.  
Perfect in every way. But like he had told Neville, not perfect for him.  
The feelings came flooding over him. The stifling heat from too many blankets, the windowless space that only added to his feeling of suffocation. The Room of Requirement getting it so very wrong.

Ginny breathing softly into his ear, whispering words of giggling encouragement that turned his face scarlet. Her small hand wrapped around him, the swell of her breasts against his skin. She touched, teased, her once gentle fingers tightening in her growing frustration. Almost painful.  
He had tried for a laugh that just wouldn't come, wanted to apologise. Couldn't breath. Panic and fear clouding his vision, his head swimming.  
She took up his hand, guided it to where she wanted him to finally touch. Pressed him close. Told him that she loved him.

His recoil had been instantaneous. Wrenching his hand away so fast he surely hurt her. Twisting from her grip. His stomach aching. He had to get out, get away. It was too warm in the room, he felt dizzy, faint. Throwing back the covers, his feet on the cool floor, his back turned to her. She had reached out, confused. He could remember every little movement she made. The shame still burnt in his chest.  
Her hand had been so hot against his bare shoulder, scalding. Just for a second he allowed her that touch before getting to his feet. 

He couldn't stay. Not in that room Not with her.  
She would never touch him in quite the same way again.

 

Draco could tell from the distracted way Harry touched him that he was a million miles away.  
The way he always touched him was measured, careful. Every brush of his fingers, every time he held his hand, reached out, it was planned, done in such a way as to not startle, to not provoke fear. But this, tonight, was different.

In his unfocused wandering, Harry had lit upon an uncovered patch of skin that Draco had not known was there. Always so very careful to hide himself from Harry's view, he had allowed his top to ride up, just a little, just an inch. It must have happened in his sleep, he didn't know, had been too careless in his movements.  
Harry had discovered it.

Over and over and over, Harry's warm fingers brushed against him, soft, careful strokes to his vulnerable flesh.  
It was terrifying to be touched in such a way by the boy beside him. The boy who meant the world. It made him think of things that he could no longer have, made him ache with a want that was unfamiliar to him. Made him want the impossible.  
And it was wrong.

'You shouldn't do that.' Draco whispered, his voice soft, so close to his ear. 'It's not nice.' It pained him to say it, wanting more of Harry's gentle caress, needing it to last forever. But he had to be the one to put a stop to this, had to stop Harry running his fingers over those terrible marks that must surely feel so nasty, so alien to him. It wasn't fair, it wasn't done.

'Mmmmm?' Harry murmured, not aware of his actions, still keeping up with the gentle fingers.

'Harry... Don't.' His voice firm. However much he wanted this, deep in his heart he knew it was the right thing to do. Harry would be disgusted.

'Oh! Oh, God. Draco... I'm so sorry.' Harry tore his hand back, pulling away. 'I...I wasn't thinking, I...' How could he have done this to him? Touching him against his will, being so very free with his body.

'No.' Draco was quick to halt Harrys jerky attempt to leave him. His hands pressed into Harry's back, drawing him close again. 'Not for me. For you. My...my skin. I must feel horrible to you.'

'Is that what you think?' Harry was shocked, struggling to find his voice. Rage boiling inside of him. How could Draco think this? How could he believe that he truly was so terrible?

'My back... My scars. I'm a mess, Harry. You...you shouldn't touch me.' He could feel the tears coming, furious at himself. He had meant to stay strong. He didn't want the pity, he wanted to make Harry know that it was all right to not touch him, he understood. 'It's okay, really. I can't look, I wouldn't never expect you to think that it's okay either. You shouldn't touch something so...so awful, so ugly.'

'Does it hurt you? Your back?' Harry whispered.

'N...no, not now, not always. But...but you musn't.' He shook his head, this was all so wrong. 'You mustn't.'

'Do you not like it? Me touching you.'

'I don't like it for you.' Draco admitted, looking into those sad green eyes. 'It's...it's so horrible.'

'You don't feel horrible.' Harry's own face was damp. 'You...you feel like the only thing in my life that makes sense.'

'Harry...'

'Don't ever be ashamed. Don't ever think that you are not worth anything.' He took a breath, knowing what was about to spill from his lips. 'You are beautiful.' He found his skin again, pushing his hand up and under the soft cotton top. His palm against Draco's back. 'You are warm, alive. That's all I could ever wish for.' His fingers sure, stroking across that evil he found, the raised scars that caused so much pain. Serpents twisting across once smooth skin. All the terrible things that were done to the boy who lay in his arms.

Draco couldn't stop the rush of tears, burying his face into Harry's chest and gasping sobs against him. 'Y...you s...shouldn't say things l...like that.'

'You are perfect, Draco.' Harry tilted his head, pressed a kiss to blond hair.


	32. Chapter 32

McGonagall sat behind her desk, her sharp eyes focused as Draco stepped into the room. She wasn't smiling, not tonight. Her posture tight, upright, waiting, watching him carefully.  
There were no china cups, no steaming pot full to the brim with Draco's favourite tea, no plate of tempting treats to encourage him to eat.  
The only thing on the desk before her, a single cardboard box.

He took his seat opposite, making no move to pull anything from his tatty bag. He simply placed it calmly on the floor beside his feet, folding his trembling hands neatly into his lap, willing them to keep still. This was not going to be a usual Thursday evening of extra study.  
He tried to control his racing heart, half afraid that she would be able to hear it in the quiet room, pounding against his ribcage. He didn't attempt to find his voice, didn't ask a question. He already knew what lay in wait inside of that plain, dark box, not befitting the power it contained. It deserved more, Draco knew that, as much as he loathed it.

'It is a wand.' She spoke after an age had passed, her voice solemn, her own hands as still as stone on the desk.

He had been expecting this day to come, wishing, hoping that he had more time, time to get his head around it, time to come up with a string of excuses. But no. The day had finally arrived. He waited for her to speak again, closing his eyes. His mouth as dry as old parchment.

'It is for you.'

 

Draco had come to realise very early on within his Cell that there were some men who were worse than others. Some with tricks, cruel ways that haunted his waking hours, some with a darkness so deep there was no hope of reasoning. But for all that, for all he endured, he knew that the bodies could only do so much. They could hurt, taunt, punch, kick. Violate. But the wands... The wands were something else. The various strips of carefully crafted wood. Precious to each individual owner. Guarded with a savage intent that would never be broken.

He had come to fear each and every one of those wands more than anything else they could imagine for him.

Curling spells of red fire lapping at his skin, curses that didn't even have to be spoken twisting in his gut, cracking his bones, forcing his body to open under each of them, forcing him to ask for things that even in his worst nightmares he would never do.

The unmitigating, relentless pain of being held under Cruciatus, that spell turning his stomach to liquid fire, expelling his bowels humiliatingly onto the already filthy floor. The unending laughter, the disgust, the stench of being left, unclean, thirsty, starving.

Begging for the drops of water that one of the men would sometimes produce with his wand, making puddles on that very same floor, watching over him as he lapped at the fluid, desperate.

His body lying taut, the crackling wand being drawn over his aching flesh with a static touch, tiny licks of a blue curse, unknown to him, but so very real against his paralysed prone form.

The wand that made his dead parents dance. Made their sunken, grey eyes look down upon him curled on the floor, grinning at him with vanishing lips, fleshless fingers twisting, asking, wanting. They would be laughing too, if they had vocal cords left.

 

'No.' His voice could hardly be heard in the silent room, his hands clenching over and over in his lap. He wanted to scream, cry, dash from the room. Anything to get away from the hateful box and all it stood for.

'You don't have to take it, you don't even have to touch it. But it is yours.' She told him gently, carefully chosing her words. 'It may not be compatible with you, that is something we shall learn, together.'

'I...I can't.' He stumbled around his words. Why couldn't she see? Did he have to spell it out for her? 'I'm not...not a wizard. Not now, not after...'

'You have time, Draco. There is no hurry. Your wand, and I, for that matter, are going nowhere. You have come a long way, and I understand how hard this has been for you.'

'You don't!' Draco snapped, rising quickly, the chair toppling to the floor with dizzying a crash. Anything to be as far away from that wand as possible. It wasn't his, it could never be his. No wand ever would. 'You don't know what it was like, you can't ever know that!'

'Mr Malfoy...'

'Don't.' He warned, his voice rough, filled with angry tears. 'You won't ever know what it's like to have to sit in the back of every single classroom, just so I can't feel all those wands behind me. Of spending all my time terrified of magic, even though I'm in a castle full of nothing but, knowing that I have nowhere else to go.' He slammed his hands on the desk, inches from the box. 'I was good, I had a future, a life. Now I'm nothing. I'm meant to be a wizard!'

'Draco, you are a wizard.'

'How can you say that? How can that even be true?'

'You were born a wizard, you will reamain a wizard. You do not need a wand to prove that.'

'Tell that to my Father.' Draco whispered, his anger drifting away to empty sadness.

'He would be nothing but proud of you, Draco. Of that I am certain.' She smiled softly, reaching over, touching his hand.

His eyes darkened at the hand touching his. She didn't know his father at all, she surely hated him, as did most. Why was she spilling all these lies? He ripped his hand away roughly, watching her face as it took on a look of mild surprise.

'You don't get to say that. No one does. He wouldn't be proud of me, not now, not ever. Look at what I have become. A pathetic excuse of a person, not even a wizard. Spending my nights crying on Harry fucking Potter! I'm a disgrace to the Malfoy name!' Staring down at that plain cardboard box on the table, directing all his fury to it. 'I can't even touch a wand, what does that tell you?' He swept his hand over the table with force, sending the box, and it's contents across the room, where it bounced harmlessly off the wall, sending a picture askew. The wand tumbling to the floor.

It was beautiful in its simplicity. Ten inches of the finest English oak, carved so purely, so delicate that it looked fragile, an impossibility. Draco could feel the waves of magic emanating from it. It drew him in, tugged at something deep inside, his feet already moving to where it lay. Jet black thread so fine, woven into the handle, a random detail of pattern that added to its allure.  
It would feel light in his hand, easy to wield. His fingers itched, flexed, almost reached out. They would fit so very perfectly around that thin thread, made for his hand alone.  
No. It would not do to dream of such a thing.

'Phoenix feather.' McGonagall told him, following his gaze.

'Like Harry's.' Draco murmured, transfixed.

'Yes, just like Harry's.' She smiled, seeing for herself the pull the wand had over Draco. 'I believe this wand will be yours.'

'No.' Draco whispered, tearing his eyes away. 'I had a wand, once. This is n...not mine.' His flooding eyes met hers. Why couldn't she understand? His own wand was gone, broken. Snapped cleanly in half, tossed aside like it meant nothing.

'It will still be here when you are ready.' Her voice brought him out of the encroaching shadows.

'What...what if I am never ready?' He stuttered, his feet retreating to the door, steadfast in his determination to not look at the wand that could never belong to him.

'It will be here.' She said softly, watching as his trembling hands reached for the heavy door, yanking it open.

'No. It's not my wand.' He was gone, vanishing into the darkness of the hallway.

 

He figured that he would give it another ten minutes before heading back to his House. The boy wearing the green crest of Slytherin, lounged against the cold wall, eyes casting around the deserted hall. There was only so long that he could loiter outside the headmistress's office before he was seen, moved on, asked what on earth he was doing.

For weeks he had been watching his childhood friend, waiting for the opportune moment. When the halls were silent, empty, when there was no possibility of being caught. It had tried all of his patience, not something he was especially gifted with at the best of times. But this was important, this needed to be put to rights.

Casual conversations over the holidays had raised eyebrows. The mention of the Malfoy name had shocked. Surprise and the truth had turned over in his already confused mind. Everything he had been told fitted in with how Malfoy was behaving. It all made sense. Finally. He had to confront him, had to let Malfoy know that his secret was a secret no longer.  
Had to make sure the boy paid for what he had done.


	33. Chapter 33

Nott never believed that it would all come down to this.  
House arrest in some squalid little abode, his wand confiscated, his only companion a sullen House Elf that had better things to do than wait on his sorry excuse for a life.

He was monitored, very loosely. Not considered dangerous to society, or indeed the wizarding world, he had become one of the forgotten ones. Left to fester in his own guilt until his trial. No date given, just the long interminable wait for something, anything to happen.

There were patches of light in his darkness. The surety that he would be released, that he would never have to return to Azkaban. His plea that he never meant to escape, not really. How could he refuse what the Dark Lord bid?  
Tears, an admission of cowardice. He didn't want to fight, and he hadn't. A cursory examination of his wand confirmed that the last spell it had produced was a simple one. Water. Nothing wrong with that.  
He hadn't killed, he hadn't struck anyone down. It was proven.

The Ministry had bigger concerns. A wizard such as him could be overlooked. And Nott was counting on it. 

At least he had been.  
Right up until the visit from his son.

 

He should have killed the boy. Hindsight was a marvelous, absurd thing. There was no going back, there would be no chance again to draw his wand and cast that terrible spell overflowing with green light and ghastly words. No chance again to wrap his hands around that tender throat and squeeze the fragile life from the body that was dying anyway. 

He should have killed him, he was meant to kill him.

But Draco lived.

 

It had been a joke, at first. The pale blond boy brought to his home because he was too stupid, to weak to do as was asked.  
The joke hadn't last.

Stripped of his expensive clothing, thrown into the basement celler that had always remained empty under his ownership, Nott had looked on as the boy was cast down those stone steps, locked into the darkness. He hadn't bothered to pay much thought to him.  
It went without question that the boy would die. Only... Only there were hisses, words that ended with whispers, ribald laughter.  
He was being used. For practice. For pleasure.

It began as a secret. Precious few were granted access to Lucius Malfoy's only child. The whispers grew, until everyone who passed thought the home knew that there was a once pretty child being kept to vent frustrations upon.  
More asked, more wanted their turn with the boy in the Cell.

Yes, clearly he belonged to their Lord and Master. But strangely, he was generous with his possession. He was willing, and keen to share his prize.

 

The stench had been so profound that Nott had nearly lost his dinner when he was first invited down into his own celler. Decomposing bodies, human waste and pain creeping up the narrow dark stairs, leaching into the walls, infiltrating his nostrils. 

He became accustomed to it over time. Time. It didn't seem to matter down there, amongst the filth, the fear. It could be morning, late night. It made no difference. The boy still cried, still bled over the stones. Still begged for salvation.

He had loved the boy's mother. Narcissa was everything that Nott would never have. She belonged to Malfoy, she was untouchable. But the boy, he was a story all of his own.

At first the idea of taking gratification from male flesh turned his stomach. He had never given it much thought before, his inclinations didn't fall that way. But... This child, this boy, so much like his mother. Once a pale beauty. Soft, tempting skin and waves of white blond hair. Gentle limbs and a stillness that made his body ache in a way he hadn't believed possible.

Sure, he had watched, they all had. It was part of the punishment. Part of his Lord's fun. Watch and learn, see what was sure to become of you should you fall out of line, should you dared to cross, to turn from the righteous path. 

There was one particular night he recalled with clarity. Saw it in his dreams, knew that they had all been a part of something that could never be understood, never be forgiven.

He had been the one to lead the wolf in, three nights away from the fullness of the moon. Already in the grip of it's bloodlust, the Werewolf's body was heavy with the realisation of the beast caged within it's human prison.  
A tightly muzzled Greyback, adamant that he would not bite, but still no risks were to be taken. It would not do to allow the boy a chance of strength.  
Even he was struck with horror, with the thought of what he had allowed, as the pale boy wept, shoving his useless body up against the unyielding walls of his Cell, knowing full well what was about to happen to him. There was to be no escape from the muscled man with a cage around his grinning mouth.

Even the most hardened amongst them could not fail to wince at the sound of the boy's pelvis cracking under that cruel, brutal body.

The boy almost died that starless night. Almost.

 

Nott had waited, biding his time. Allowed his own torment to control him until he got his chance.  
It had been night, sleeping bodies filled his rooms, his house. Safe in the knowledge that he was the only one awake, he let himself into that Cell. Let himself take enjoyment from the frail boy on the dirt stained floor.

And he did. Stole his pleasure, swallowed the sobs the boy made, the pleas, the begging. Nothing could dissuade him from this turn of events, lost to the sordid thrills his own body thirsted for. The snap of his hips, the twist of his hand, the dry drag of his flesh. He took and took and took until the boy was nothing, a pathetic imitation of the only woman he would ever love. The woman who slowly turned to dust in the corner of the room. Her lidless eyes unable to accuse, forever entwined with her silent husband.

He returned, whenever he could. Told no one. This was his little secret, his own dark sin.

 

The weeks drifted by on clouds of wonder, heated speculation. Voldemort growing impatient, his time coming, the fight drawing ever closer.  
But all the time Nott knew. Knew that to fight was a death sentence. And when the day finally arrived, he hid. Craven and fearful, he retreated deep within his own walls when all others joined the Dark Lord on the battlefield. They came, they went, and he listened. In silence, waiting for their triumphant return.

They lost.

 

He had no choice, the boy had to die, and it had to be by his hand. He already knew that the use of his wand was out of the question. Just simply place his hands around the child's throat, gently increasing the pressure. Or perhaps a rock, something hard, stove that blond head in. Quick, relatively painless. Well, no worse than the boy had already endured. It would be a mercy killing.

Old memories brought forth the idea of the Forbidden Forest. There, he would carry out his desperate deed there under the cover of trees, no one around for miles.

But, the sight of that pale body lit by fleeting glimpses from the waxing moon. All shivery and dying on that cold ground. He couldn't do it. Why bother to throttle him now? The animals would discover the easy prey soon enough. There would be nothing left of him to resemble a body, let alone the missing son of Lucius Malfoy. He wouldn't need to dirty his hands, wouldn't need to murder.  
Yet another thing that made his insides squirm with distaste.

Dump him, leave him. Let nature work its own special magic. There would be no trace back to him this way. Now, just the small matter of the boy's parents rotting in his celler.

 

Malfoy is back.

The simple words from his visting son twisted deeply in his chest. His grave mistake coming back to haunt him.

He would never be able to right the wrong in letting the child live, his wish of freedom slipping through his fingers.  
Should the boy open his mouth and talk of his horrors, Nott knew that it would be his ending. He had to think fast, had to convince his only hope, his son, that the Malfoy boy was a liar, a fool, a friend that had deceived them all.  
The lies he wove, the fallacies, the tall tales. Each one quick, each one more elaborate that the last.

His son had drank in the stories, reveled in the nonsensical. Wanting to believe, wanting to claim Slytherin as his own. Of course he would never consider his revered father could lie to his face, why would he?

 

Spy.  
Sold them all to the enemy. The Malfoy child was treacherous, his own parents disgusted, fled the country under a malstrom of shame and fear. Why else was the boy in Gryffindor? Why else was he sharing a room with the Dark Lord's mortal enemy?  
He had even been warming Severus Snape's bed, the nasty little catamite.


	34. Chapter 34

He could do it, of course he could. One foot in front of the other.

Hadn't Harry taken hours and hours to show him how it was done? If he could do it then, after months on the floor of that dark place, then he could do it again. He had only been sitting here for a moment against the wall of the candlelit hallway, his face pressed to his knees, terrified that once again Theodore would jump out of the darkness and begin his malicious taunts all over again.  
Snape would never... He wouldn't do that... He wasn't like that.  
Those words, spilling from a face that twisted with cruelty. Made to hurt, to stick in his stomach, his lungs. Stealing his breath. No. It wasn't true. It wasn't like that. Nott had it all wrong. He hadn't wanted to leave with them. They had seized his hands, forced him. He wasn't what Nott said.  
He wasn't.

 

So what if he had to stop and catch his breath? Who would care that he jumped at his own shadow? That he had to hold on to the walls just to make slow progress. There wasn't anybody to see. It didn't matter to anyone.

Gryffindor was safe. Yes, they may all hate him. Loathe him with a passion, but he was still safe. They didn't torment him, they didn't accuse, threaten. They ignored. And right now, that was better than anything.  
And Harry. Of course Harry. He would be waiting for him. Not able to show it, that was out of the question. But Draco knew that Harry would raise his head, look as he entered, his emerald eyes watching, just to see if he was all right.

He wasn't all right, not this time, and Draco knew that he wouldn't be able to hide it. Harry would be able to see the drying tears that ached to reappear, the shaking that never left. And later he would ask. They would be alone. Harry would hold his hand, whisper that it was okay, that he was listening.  
Perhaps he would tell him of Nott and his words. Perhaps.

 

Ron had never once believed that coming back for the eighth, and final year, would be easy. And like Harry, he too had toyed with the idea of never returning to Hogwarts again. Keeping silent, he had simply gone along with what his best friend had decided to do, and Hermione too, of course. Had she wished to stay away, Ron knew he would also.  
He kept his peace, he gave no opinion, he returned with them.

In the end it had been a relief to be back. To be away from The Burrow. The only house he had ever known was a comfort still, the restored familiarity after that terrible blaze was a relief. But... His family was incomplete. His home was incomplete.

Fred was gone, all the waiting, all the wishing in the world would never bring him back.  
George was a shell. His annoying, teasing, adored brother was gone. Still there in body, but not in spirit. He too had died alongside his twin. And it hurt to look at him.

He would never, ever admit it in words. But it was there. The pain of seeing his broken brother at the breakfast table each and every morning had become a pain that he was struggling to bear.  
One did not come without the other, it didn't happen, it was beyond wrong, it was unthinkable. But still, there he was, George. Without Fred. Still looking the same, still the spitting image of his dead brother. Minutes should be separating them, not eternal sleep.

Ron was desperate for his old life.

 

This, this right here was normal. Sitting across from Harry Potter, the chessboard laid out in front of them. For this brief, fleeting moment he could be back in that first year. All the horrors, all the heartache hadn't happened. He could pretend. What would be the harm in pretending?

If he just didn't look too closely at the empty chairs that littered the room, not listen to the laughter that never quite seemed to reach into every corner. If he could just not look at Harry. At the dark circles that surrounded his perpetually tired eyes, the age in his young face, the slump of his weary shoulders.  
He wouldn't look, not tonight.

After all, some things remained the same.  
They had all taken solace in the mundane, the cliché of their old ways.  
Hermione was in the Library, no doubt tucked away in some quiet corner, studying, always studying. Neville had his head down, sitting beside the fire, picking his way through an enormous tome about some plant or another. Seamus was laughing about something, demanding attention, surely an explosion was imminent? Even the pale-faced interloper was away. 

And here he was, with his very best friend. They were playing a game, jelly beans at his elbow. 

This was a happy place, a place full of hope and ripe with expectation.  
Fred could still be alive in this place.

 

'You are rubbish tonight, Harry.' Ron grinned, catching the eye of his quiet Housemate as he swept away the remains of yet another smashed chess piece. The fourth in as many minutes. 'Something the matter?' He never expected Harry to reply, he didn't want him to, not really. He was only being polite.

'I've handed in my Captaincy. I'm not going to play Quidditch any more.' Harry blurted.

Ron's hopeful wish for a normal evening came shattering down around him.

 

I've spoken to Madam Hooch. She is going to start trials this weekend. She said there are some students who are showing real promise this year.' Harry continued on with a long, deep sigh, finally rid of the weight he had carried around with him all evening. 'I'm tired, Ron. I've had enough of it. It...It doesn't feel important anymore.' He kept his eyes on his rapidly diminishing chess pieces, knowing he would see the anger hot in Ron's features 'I can't do it anymore.'

Ron knew that if he just kept pretending, If he didn't speak, didn't move, then it hadn't happened. Right? Wasn't that how things worked? Harry hadn't spoken, it was just his tired imagination playing dirty tricks. Harry wouldn't do that, Harry loved Quidditch, it was his life. Ron allowed his fingers to graze the figure he was next to move. Just keep pretending. First year. Just for tonight, just for a few hours more. Was that really too much to ask?

'Ron?' Harry pressed, watching Ron's small movements, the way his fingers touched lightly upon his Queen. 'Are you listening to me? Did...did you hear what I said?'

'I heard you. All right. I fucking heard you.' Ron moved, all of a sudden up on his feet, his knees catching the edge of the board. Pieces crashed to the floor in splintering fragments of pottery. He hadn't meant it, not really. But there was something undeniably satisfying in seeing all of those crafted forms in bits, spread out across the floor.

Heads turned around in the ensuing commotion. Conversations fell into silence, shocked gasps at the loud profanity.

'I fucking heard you!' He shouted into the quiet room. 'You had to ruin it, didn't you. You had to ruin my night.'

'What are you talking about?' Harry also stood, confused by Ron's fury. He had expected words, incredulity, possibly a little swearing. But this?

'All I wanted was a night. Is that too much to ask for? Just one night?' He raised his hands, brought them slapping down to his sides. 'Why can't things stay the same? Why not?' He could feel his growing tears. This was not what he wanted.

'Ron, it's only Quidditch.' Harry tried for a smile, wanted his friend to realise he was being ridiculous.

'It's not only Quidditch, Harry.' Ron snapped, unaware of their attentive, silent audience. 'It's everything!' He moved, began to pace the room. 'Everything has changed, everything is horrible. I didn't even want to come back this year, not really. But I followed you. I thought, well, if you can do it, if you and Hermione can come back after everything, then maybe it won't be so bad. I thought it would be the same, all right! I though we could go back to being normal. But...but it's not the same.' His feet carrying him across the threadbare rugs and back again. 'You are my best friend, Harry. My very best. But it's like you are not even here anymore. And when you are, you are distant. Like, like you always want to be someplace else. You didn't even bother to come home for Christmas.'

'I... Ron, I'm sorry.' Harry could feel his own tears beginning to well. 'It's...It's been hard.'

'Too hard to talk to me? Best friends, Harry. Bloody Hell.' He turned his back. 'Why? Why have you quit the team? Why now?'

'I... It's the truth, Ron. I'm bloody tired.'

'You love Quidditch, you love being the Captain. I know you do.'

'Yes, I do, I did. But...'

'There is something else, isn't there? Hermione said it, she said there was something going on with you, and she's right. Isn't she?' 

Harry remained silent, he was all too aware of the eyes in the room. He couldn't say. It hurt that he couldn't tell his friend the reason he didn't give a damn about Quidditch was because of a tired, lonely boy that Ron continued to hate with a passion. He wanted to be with Draco. He didn't want the burden of playing a sport that he no longer loved, when he could be curled up in bed, book in hand, reading to someone who had become his...his everything.

'You won't tell me.' Ron's voice dropped, he turned his back. 'What's so fucking important that you can give up every single thing so easily? Tell me, Harry. Just tell me!'

'I...I can't.'

'Can't. Or won't?' Ron murmured.

'Ron, look...' Harry never got to finish what he was about to say.

 

The Fat Lady let him in without a word. Even she had decided early on that the selfish boy from Slytherin had no place here. What did it matter that he shook? That his head was down, that his eyes were red and puffy? Whatever had happened this night he had brought upon himself. Horrible child.

Even the slamming of the door didn't rouse Ron from his angry strides across the floor. He didn't look, wasn't thinking about paying attention. Only when there was a surprised yell from Harry, only when Draco Malfoy was on the floor at his feet did he realise what had happened.

'Fucking Hell, Malfoy! Watch where you are going!' He stood over the boy who had clattered into him. Looking, finally looking, at the person he had sworn to ignore. Draco held his arm, white fingers digging painfully into the dark of his robes. He looked shocked, shaken. His lips parted but no sound came. 

Draco knew it was his fault. He hadn't been looking, he was distracted. Wanted his bed. The solitude. Wanted warm arms and kind, gentle words. Wanted them to chase the world away. It was all too much. He couldn't look up, couldn't make eye contact with those hooded eyes glaring down at him. He deserved it all.

'What are you even doing here, Malfoy? No one wants you here, no one even likes you!' Finally Ron had someone worthy to vent his anger upon. 'Why don't you crawl back under the rock you came from, bastard. You might find your parents there waiting for you.' He snapped, cruel, vicious. It wasn't like him, he wasn't this spiteful person. But...But why Malfoy? Why was he here when so many were not?

'That's enough!' Harry was there, grabbing at Ron's shoulder with considerable force. 'Leave him alone.'

'What?' Ron turned, wrenching his body from Harry's bruising grip. 'You're sticking up for him? You hate him more than any of us!'

'There is no need to be so bloody nasty.' He roughly pushed Ron away, went to Draco.

'You okay?' He crouched down, not listening to the excited chatter that now filled the room.

'Don't.' Draco whispered, his eyes filling for all to see. 'Please.'

'Can you get up?' Harry asked him softly. 'Did he hurt you?' He held out his hand. 'Come on, I'll help you.' Despite all of Draco's intentions, he couldn't refuse that hand.

'What the fuck are you doing, Harry?' Ron raged. 'Bloody leave him down there!' 

'I said that's enough.' Harry spoke, carefully helping a trembling Draco to his feet. 'He's here now. And it's about time you all got used to it.' He didn't leave Draco's side, gently keeping his hand around Draco's cold fingers. He could feel him shaking. 'Haven't you all had enough of the fighting? Sometimes I wonder if we won the War at all.'

'I don't know you anymore, Harry.' Ron spoke, staring at where Harry and Malfoy were joined. His voice low, dark. 'First you dump my sister...'

'I didn't dump Ginny. It...' He said softly.

'Yeah, difficult, you said.' Ron snarled. 'But you never said why. She used to cry over you, I would listen to her. At night, when she thought she couldn't be heard. You broke her heart, Harry. And you didn't seem to care.'

'Ron...'

'No! You don't get get to explain, not now. You had your chance. You ditched my little sister. You ditch the team. You didn't come home for Christmas, I never see you anymore, and now you are defending that piece of shit!' He pointed to Draco.

'Don't.' Harry warned, his hand tightening around Draco's.

'You are still holding his fucking hand!' Ron raged. Draco twisted in Harry's warm hold, pulling his hand free. 'At least the ferret has the decency to feel ashamed!' Ron spat, 'Get out of here, Malfoy. There isn't a person alive that wants you here. It should have been you, not Fred.' Ron could feel hot, helpless tears streaming down his face. 'You should have been the one to die, not my brother.'

 

Ron never expected to find himself flat on his back beside the roaring fire, Harry standing over him. But here he was, staring up at the man Harry had become. His chest hurting from where Harry had placed his hands, shoving him to the floor. Harry, his best friend in the world, with his wand drawn, pointing it at him. His eyes glittering with hatred, and something else. Something strange. This, this man, standing over him.

'Harry.' A voice broke through the silence that continued around the common room. Mouths agape in shock. 'Put down your wand.' Neville. Strong, steady Neville. 'Now, Harry.' He was tugging on his arm, pulling at his jumper. 'Come on, it's all right. Ron didn't mean it. He's...he's upset. Tell him, Ron.'

'I...I...' Harry couldn't get the words out, his wand hitting the floor in a shower of miscast sparks. 'I didn't...I wasn't...' Harry looked on in dawning horror. What had he almost done? What had he become?

'It's all right, Harry.' Neville tried to soothe, his words mirroring his gentle hands. 'You didn't do anything. Nothing happened.'

'Nothing happened!' Ron struggled to his feet. 'You.' He stared at Harry. 'You were going to Hex me!'

'No! Ron, no. I...I...' Harry stuttered. 'I didn't mean...'

'Who are you, Harry?' Ron spoke through the tears that clogged his throat. His eyes were drawn to the wand that now lay dormant on the flagstones. 'I thought I knew you. After all this time, I thought I had it all figured out. But...but you keep secrets. And I think you lie to me.' He was quiet as he spoke. The sadness in him overwhelming. 'We used to be such good friends, Harry. When did it change? Why did it have to change?' 

He was out of the portrait hole before Harry got the chance to reply.


	35. Chapter 35

His hand felt cold where Harry had once held it. His legs beginning to shake.  
Draco knew that if he didn't force his feet to move now, they never would. He would be trapped here, in the middle of a crowd of rowdy, confused Gryffindor students. People who hated him, people who would soon grasp that he was the sole person to blame for the divide in the eternal friendship between Harry and Ron. 

He had gone. Without a word, without a glance. Harry had left him.

Of course Harry should follow Ron, it was the right thing to do. Years of friendship could not be torn asunder because of some cross words, some hasty actions. Harry would make it right. He had too. But...But it had hurt. 

He could feel eyes upon him, the interest that had died away in the past months was now back. They didn't talk to him as he moved away, but Draco could hear the whisper of his name behind hands covering mouths, curious eyes all pointing in his direction.

 

He pulled the curtains closed, his hands fumbling with the thick, protective fabric surrounding his bed. He had to be alone, that was the way of it, it would always be the way.

Drawing his knees to his chest, the bed felt huge, so accustomed to sharing it's space with Harry. It was hard to finally be alone. But he would never be alone, not really.  
Voices, so many bloody voices in his head. Hissing, swallowing him. Words fighting for attention, each one as cold as the last, each one desperate to be heard. He wanted to vomit, wanted to sob, curl up and be forgotten.

Nott's poisonous words a memory, lost among all the others.  
Those lies spilling from that twisted mouth, sly and grinning. Glittering eyes in a spiteful face. Enjoying every second of the torment he inflicted. Watching Draco's eyes fill with unwanted tears, helpless under the might of his cruelty.  
Snape would never... It was inconceivable, disgusting. Sex. Not with him, never with him. The sex, the rape had been under Nott's own father. He had dined at the man's table. Had eaten off his plates, drunk from his cups.  
Cried under his body as his legs were forced to part, as the man moved roughly inside of him. Taking. Taking him so completely that he no longer belonged to the world.

That wand. That object of power that was his. McGonagall and her words, telling him, asking him. It was his, it would only ever be his. Only... Only he was too stupid, too weak to reach out, too pathetic to take what was rightfully his. He could still feel it now. Waiting.

And Ron. He had been right, it wasn't fair. He should have died, Merlin knew he had wanted to.

Harry and his hand. Warm, gentle and understanding. It had hurt to pull away from all of that, to stand in the common room, surrounded, but so very alone.

Harry. Walking away. Leaving.

 

Draco sat, waited under the cover of curtains. Sleep was out of the question, not unless he wanted to face the demons of the past alone. The sound of Nott's laughing voice.  
He waited until all the fuss and commotion of bedtime had quieted, lulled and finally ceased. And when all he heard through the drapes was the gentle sounds of snoring, he emerged.

He wanted the fire. Even if he wasn't prepared to sit beside its warmth. Someone might catch him there after all. But he still wanted its distant heat, the light the flames brought. Picking up his treasured book and tucking it carefully under his arm, he made for the common room.

 

Harry stopped, he had too. Gasping for breath, his head hanging down, his chest heaving. What a fool he was, running from the room like an army of Dementors chased at his heals. He hadn't stopped running until the dead of night closed around him and he found himself out in the open, the stars cold company.

He shivered in his t-shirt. Wrapping his arms around himself did little to help. He had left the common room with nothing. His wand abandoned on the floor, along with any shred of dignity left to him. He was a monster, pulling his wand on his best friend like that.  
No. Ron was more than his friend. He was his family, his brother. He had wanted to hurt him for his words. He had only seen red, only heard the hatred exploding from that kind face, words of cold-hearted anger, directed at the person Harry had come to...  
He shook the word away that wanted to escape. He couldn't think like that. 

Draco would surely hate him after tonight. He had trusted him, shown Harry that there was more to the world other than magic. It wasn't everything, it wasn't even that important. Not when you sat through the night with someone, simply holding their hand and reading in the quiet.  
When you cared for them, bathed away all the fear and the terror that the night can bring. What use was magic in a world like that?

Harry knew he had shattered that trust the second he drew his wand against someone he called friend. Would Draco believe he could do it to him too? If they argued? If they didn't agree? The thought of causing Draco that pain would be his end.

Would he speak to him, would he be waiting? 

 

The sight was just about enough to break Harry's heart. What had he done?

There Draco sat, in the lonely darkness of the common room, just a brave little lamp burning the shadows away where he sat in his drafty chair. An enclave, a halo of light surrounding him. The room was chilly, the fire long dead, it's ashes turned grey hours ago.

He had a blanket on his lap, held a book. Harry didn't need to be near to know what that book was. A beautiful leather bound, gilt-edged book by a long dead Muggle author.

Those half dozen paperback books, battered and bruised and beyond repair had brought Harry such comfort when he was that lost little boy living under a set of stairs.  
When they had gone it had almost broken his fragile heart. Replacing them with such copies had softened that ache, not taken it away, not entirely, but it had helped. And those books were truly beautiful, so beautiful that it was only right that Draco now owned his most favourite. And it was right that this book could also bring comfort to another lost, lonely boy.

His fingers curled around the edges, holding it tightly. A sliver of shining card peeked out from between the folds. A makeshift bookmark. Harry edged closer, careful not to wake the slumbering boy.  
One he had walked out on.

 

'I thought you had gone.' Draco's eyes flickered as Harry stepped near. Opening. 'I though after all of that, you wouldn't come back.' He sounded so soft, so afraid, that Harry felt the weight of guilty tears welling once more.

'I'm s...sorry. I...I didn't mean to go, I...I was stupid. I wouldn't go. I...I can't. I never would.' Harry drew closer, his legs finally giving up, dropping to the floor by Draco's chair, pressing his face into Draco's knees, the great tide of tears sprung forth, overpowering him. 'I wouldn't. Not...not without you.'

'Harry... Ssh.' Draco's hand fell to the top of Harry's head. 'It's all going to be all right.' His words sounded foolish, stupid in his ears. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say that would help take away Harry's pain.

'No. It won't. it's...It's all too horrible. Please, Draco. Can't...can't we just go? I...I can't do this anymore.'

'You can, you have to, Harry. I know it's not fair, you're right, it is horrible. But listen to me, you can do this, you can get through anything.' Draco soothed, his fingers combing through Harry's tangled hair. 'Did you find him? Ron?'

I didn't go looking for him.' Harry admitted. 'I couldn't.' He leaned into Draco's touch with a weary sigh. 'Would you come with me? If...If I left?'

'Harry, you don't know what you are saying.' Draco felt his heart contract. He wanted that too, how he wanted to just take Harry's hand in his, lead him from this castle full of ghosts. They could be happy. Couldn't they?  
But he had to be sensible, had to be the one to realise that they could never have that. 'You have to stay. You cannot walk out on your life. It doesn't work that way. I should know.' His fingers tightened in Harry's dark locks. 'It will never be that simple.' He smiled wistfully, unable to keep his own tears in check.

'Why not? After all that has happened, to you, to everyone. To me. Why can't it be that simple? Why can't I have what I want?'

He trailed his hand down, brushed Harry's damp eyelashes, cupped his tear streaked face. 'You cannot leave the people you love.' His thumb uselessly wiping away the tears that could not be stopped.

'I want you. I only ever want you.' Harry whispered, his face turning in Draco's soft hand. His lips pressing to his palm. He shuddered, the cold of the night, the lingering shock of the evening leaching the fight, the last of the warmth from his body.

'You know you have me, Harry.' Draco squeezed his eyes shut, tears escaping through the tighly closed lids. 'I think in a way you always have.' He couldn't understand why the words were coming from him now. He had guarded them closely for so long. 'I...I thought I could be alone, I didn't want to bring someone into the life I had. I vowed to never do that. I thought that it would be simple, and it was. For so long it was. Until...until I...I was...was... Until you.' He stopped, setting aside his book and easing his aching body to the floor. Harry helping him, touching him.  
'I hated you, Harry.' Draco told him, wrapping the blanket from his legs over Harry's trembling shoulders, leaning close. 

Harry pulled him in with a sigh, his hands wrapping around his slight body, taking away the hurt, the words. Impossibly closer.

'I hated you too.' Harry replied, his tone soft, gentle. 'I don't anymore.'

'You should.' Draco murmured. 'It would be so much easier for everyone, for you, if you did.'

'When have I ever wanted easy?' Harry pressed forehead to Draco's, his fingers on his face, his eyes. His lips. 'I only want you.'

'Don't.' Draco breathed against those questioning fingers. Catching, kissing.

'I scare you.'

'No. Not once. I...I scare myself.'

'Why?'

'For all the things I want. For being this way, for wanting everything I cannot have.'

'What can't you have?'

'You.' Draco took a breath, spoke the impossible. 'I want you too.'


End file.
